


A Hidden Figure

by LeafontheWinf2



Series: Hidden Figures [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Clint Barton, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bucky Barnes as Captain America, Deaf Clint Barton, Human Disaster Clint Barton, Hydra (Marvel), Langley Institute, Langley Verse, M/M, Mathametician Steve Rogers, Miscarriage, Old Married Couple Bucky and Steve, Omega Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Racism, Segregation, So Married, Steve Rogers Hates Math, Steve Rogers is Not Captain America, Steve Rogers is a Mathametician, Steve Rogers is a little shit, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Virginia in the 1940s, WWII, sad bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-03-22 11:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 39,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13763376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafontheWinf2/pseuds/LeafontheWinf2
Summary: During the 1942, Steve Rogers became a computer at Langley while his mate went off to war. In 1944, Bucky Barnes receives word that HYDRA killed his mate. Six months later, he goes into the ice and Steve Rogers becomes a myth.In 2013, Clint Barton ends up being hit with a HYDRA experiment and ends up in 1943. While there, he meets angry computer Steve Rogers whose determined to help out this walking disaster.A story of Clint dealing with the tiny ball of rage that is Steve Rogers, while also trying to keep his friend's mate safe from HYDRA. Just another day in the life of Hawkeye.





	1. Steve Rogers: The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came up when I was reading Hidden Figures, and I realized that the computer program officially took off during WWII. From there, it wasn't much of a stretch to connect Steve to Langley.
> 
> Langley had top secret research during the war. It wouldn't be surprising if the SSR worked there, or at least started there. Thats what this story started with and it kind of exploded from there.

Looking back on his life, Steve wasn't really surprised that he'd ended up here due to sheer spite. He knew he looked stupid, standing in the middle of the rundown apartment in 1942 and staring at the letter in his hand. An acceptance letter welcoming him to a brand new job, one he had never expected to get.

It had all started back when he was in eighth grade in Brooklyn. He'd returned to school after a horrible bout of pneumonia, escorted by an overprotective Bucky, only to discover that they were taking a math test.

Now, Steve had never been great at math. Mostly because he was already missed so much school and never really received any instructions on how to do well with math. Bucky had been the one to teach Steve most of what he knew about math, staying up late at night to help Steve through the steps and equations. Ma Rogers and Barnes often joked if they couldn't find Steve fighting someone, they would find him learning arithmetic from Bucky on the fire escape.

But this round, Steve hadn't been able to prepare so he had failed the test pretty badly. That was part one of how this happened.

Part two came from their asshole teacher, an older alpha who was a patronizing ass. He always looked at Steve with pity in his eyes, called him names like sweetheart and darling. All because Steve had presented as an omega a few years ago, so he was obviously frail and delicate and needed to be protected (Ronny Jenkins had laughed so hard he'd hurt himself the first time the teacher said that to Steve’s face while Bucky had to pin his arms down so he didn't stab the guy in the eye).

So it was not a surprise when the teacher handed back the test with the red F on top, gave Steve a patronizing look, and explained loudly to the class that of course he hadn't expected Steve to do well because his fragile omega mind couldn't handle a complex subject like math, which was for alphas sweetheart. So wouldn't it be better to settle down soon and stay home?

Steve, of course, was fuming by the time the jackass moved on. His teeth were grit, eyes narrowed dangerously as he watched the teacher moved.

“Stevie? You alright?” Bucky asked hesitantly, nervously watching his best friend. Now, normally Bucky wouldn't hesitate to check on Steve. But he was an alpha and didn't want his friend's justifiable rage turned on him due to that issue.

“Oh, I'm more than alright,” Steve hissed, and everyone except Bucky leaned away from him in fear of what was coming next. They had survived years of Steve Rogers in the classroom and picked up on when to bow their heads in submission because Steve was terrifying for anyone, not just an omega!

“I'm going to become a fucking math genius Buck,” Steve snarled out, “And then that fuck is going to see whose mind is too delicate for the subject!”

Bucky just sighed, “As long as you don't stab him, I'm all for it.”

And that was part two of what led Steve here to this moment. Some asshole back when he was a kid challenged him so Steve had thrown himself into learning everything he could about math. Hours had been spent in the library, on stoops, in the classroom with a math book tucked under his arm. Illness hadn't stopped him, he'd continued to read and learn even when hospitalized, bringing the books with him to keep learning.

So it really hadn't been a surprise for anyone when he'd graduated and been offered a scholarship to study math. By that time he'd already been mated to Bucky (no one was surprised. Ronny actually won twenty dollars for guessing the right day in the betting pool) and Bucky had worked overtime at the docks to put Steve through college before his high grades had earned him a full ride for his masters in mathematics.

Bucky had been stupidly proud, loudly exclaiming to everyone that his baby doll was a college graduate. The whole block had been proud as well, Steve being the first one to go to college and graduate (twice!). Overnight he went from that kid you did not emulate because he picked fights to the kid you wanted to be when you grew up because he had a college degree.

Which led to part three. The conversation that had Steve start leaning.

“It’s weird,” Steve grumbled one evening when Bucky had taken him out dancing.

“What’s weird,” Bucky murmured, tugging the slight omega closer when a cold wind blew through the buildings.

“Mrs. Dotting was telling her kids to be like me when they grew up,” Steve complained, “Buck, she hates me. She always said I'd go to hell and drag you down with me.”

“She said what?! Damn bat needs to mind her own business…”

“But since I got that degree, she's been acting like I'm the best thing ever,” Steve let out an annoyed sigh, leaning into Bucky’s side as the alpha grumbled under his breath, “But that degrees worthless cause I don't had a job.”

Bucky growled a little, jostling Steve’s shoulder, “Not worthless. You're a little genius. That degree just proves it to the entire world.”

“That degree is just a scrap of paper, and we need money for rent or food,” Steve grumbled back, “And no one wants a brainy omega working for them with a fancy college degree.”

“Someone is going to hire you, they'll realize just how great you are and then have to fight them to get you back.”

“Sure they are Buck, you keep thinking that.”

After that conversation, Steve hadn't been able to let it go. He wanted to be able to contribute to their home instead of relying on Bucky’s dock job. Especially because it was the only thing he could do. Steve was sickly, and everyone just knew he was going to die before he reached thirty. He caught every illness, struggled to breath when dust hit his face.

And worse still, he was pretty sure he was barren. A barren omega was seen as being worthless in the eyes of society, especially a male omega. People always muttered about how the only good thing a male omega could do was bare his alpha children. And Steve couldn't even do that right!

So Steve had been working hard and applying to every job he could find so he could contribute something, anything to their home. Every job, no matter how degrading and humiliating it could be. Stereotypical omega work as a secretary, a teacher, anything that could let him work and make an income.

And then Steve got a reply. An acceptance from one of the jobs he'd applied to on a whim when he saw it in the paper. A job he had never thought he would get, and was now informed he would be starting there Monday of next week.

“Oh dear lord,” Steve wheezed, collapsing into the rickety kitchen chair, head in his hands. He struggled through an asthma attack, eyes unfocused as they stared at that damn paper.

He was still sitting there when Bucky came in through the front door, calling about what was on for dinner. He froze for a brief moment at the sight of his mate collapsed on the table and rushed over to him. Fluttering around, Bucky fussed over his Stevie and gently pulled his tiny mate into his arms. “Doll, you alright,” Bucky murmured, pressing kisses to golden hair, “Come on doll, talk to me.”

“I got a job Buck,” Steve gasped out, eyes wide, “I start work next week.”

“What? Stevie, that's great,” Bucky let out a delighted laugh. He gathers Steve into a kiss before breaking off to press more over still too pale cheeks, “I'm so proud of you darling.”

Steve let out a strangled moan, struggling out of Bucky’s arms. He threw himself onto the table ignoring Bucky’s confused questions to grab the letter and shove it back into his alpha’s broad hands.

He buried his face in his hands when Bucky started reading, he refused to look up when Bucky's eyebrows rose and his mouth dropped open in shock. “Steve,” Bucky said slowly, “This says you’ve got a job in Langley.”

“Uh huh.”

“Langley, Virginia. As in not Brooklyn or even New York. Virginia. As a…”

“Mathematician. I know.”

“But Steve,” and here Bucky couldn't help himself. He started to grin, “You hate math.” Steve let out an agonized groan even as Bucky started to laugh. “You got a degree and masters as a fuck you to our old teacher and then announced that you were quitting math forever. And now you're a mathematician?”

“Yes Bucky,” Steve snapped back. His angry tone was downplayed by the spectacular blush covering his face, “I am aware of how ridiculous this is.”

Bucky howled with laughter, tugging his fuming mate back in for a kiss. Even with all of his annoyed grumbling, Steve returned the kiss and snuggled in close when Bucky took a seat and tugged him into a warm lap.

“Why did you even apply there?” Bucky demanded gently.

Steve sighed, “Honestly? Because I didn't think I would actually get the job? Who the fuck hires omega mathematicians to work for them?”

“Langley apparently,” Bucky snorted, “Which is in Virginia. Where you've never been before.”

“Neither have you jerk,” Steve grumbled, “Does this mean I have to move to Virginia?”

“No, it means that we’re moving there,” Bucky announced, “Like hell you're going there by yourself. You'll pick a fight with everyone if I'm not there to watch you.”

“So we’re moving to Virginia,” Steve let out an annoyed sigh, “Virginia, Bucky. Ma is rolling in her grave.”

Bucky snorted, “Only you doll. Only you would do this. What are you even doing in this new fancy job anyway?”

“No idea Buck. I have no clue what they're doing at Langley.”


	2. Clint Barton: The Amazing Hawkeye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just once, Clint would like to make it out of a mission with nothing weird happening. Just a normal fight. Not witches, no magic, no aliens, no super powers. 
> 
> Just a guy. His now and arrows. And ass kicking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is going up faster than I planned. I've got a couple days off of school (as a teacher, not a student) and I purposefully left behind my grading. 
> 
> Once I get back to work, postings are going to slow down. But over break, here's a couple chapters to help out. 
> 
> Also, this is my first time writing Clint Barton, and I hope I did him justice.

When James Barnes came out of the ice, he was a broken man. Restrained, eyes lost in the past as he watched the world around him. He fought aliens, joined SHIELD and made sure that he finished fights. After SHIELD fell he threw himself back into the Avengers but now had Natasha and Sam watching his back.

It had been fine for a while. Until he found out from Stark that dear old Howard and saved all of his dear friend Cap’s stuff in a storage container. So Bucky went and looked through the things, ending up collapsed against the wall sobbing over a picture of his Stevie, smiling and bright and buried in the ground. Bucky screamed and wailed and raged and his mating bond ached just as badly as it had the day Steve died.

That was how Sam and Natasha found him. They proved him up, got him talking about his darling mate, before dragging Bucky out of the container and back to the tower where Bucky told them about his mate until his voice gave out.

After that night, Bucky lost part of the weight of grief that had been slowly drowning him. He wasn't better, but he was a little more stable. And it helped him even more because he now had two allies in this personal fight that actually understood his struggle. Sam and Natasha now that they better understood the weight Bucky had been carrying and how to help him bear the burden. They knew how to get the dark look out of grey eyes and get Bucky to lighten up. To the rest of the Avengers, it was weird to have Captain America go from some remote figure to everyday guy who swore and tried to learn about the rest of the world.

To one Clint Francis Barton, who is the most important person in here please and thank you so the only opinion that actually matters, it was more annoying than weird. Before whatever the fuck happened between those three (Nat still wouldn't tell him, the traitor) Cap hadn't really cared about what Clint did. Now, Cap cared and was invested.

Clint disappeared for two days suddenly? Cap wanted to know where he had gone even if it was because Clint got thrown in a dumpster over a dog. Having an authority figure actually pay attention to him was bizarre and annoying.

So here was Clint, removing himself from the prying eyes of Captain America during a raid on a Hydra base by crawling through the air vents. So far he'd already managed to take out ten targets and was steadily working his way to whatever Hydra was testing deeper in the base.

Clint’s job was made much easier by the giant disaster that was the rest of the Avengers fighting. He could hear Thor’s booming laugh and Tony’s stupid repulsive beams as he continued to go climbing forward. Then there was Cap, blasting his way through the Hydra agents with a single minded focus that only came from a deep and personal hatred.

But hey. It let Clint drop through the air vent in the middle of some weird Hydra testing lab. And he would just like to say that he looked like a complete badass when he hit the ground, alright? He had this under control and was taking out the scientists and soldiers and stopping their experiment when the Hulk ruined it.

See? Not Clint’s fault. It was all Banner’s that he got knocked over by derbies and took a tumble straight into the device Hydra had managed to cook up and turn on. Especially not his fault that one of the Hydra goons had already turned the fucking thing on when Clint crashed into him sending them both crashing to the floor in a heap of limbs, weapons, and flailing limbs.

Just as Clint hit the ground, he felt his stomach lurch like someone had grabbed it and pulled. His vision blacked out for a brief second as his ears started to ring painfully loud (how does that even work when you’re deaf...what was even happening) and his skin felt like it was tingling.

All in all, the horrible feeling lasted no more than about thirty seconds and ended with Clint sprawled on to of the unconscious Hydra agent, groaning in pain.

Shakily, he managed to push himself to his feet and then froze. The room he was in had changed drastically. The scientists were gone. So were the sounds of battle coming from the other Avengers. And the lab equipment was missing. All that Clint could see in the room (besides the Hydra agent) was a table, a few chairs, and a lamp. It was small, Spartan, and almost bare. But it was clearly not the Hydra base.

A few minutes later, the Hydra agent was taped to the desk (duct tape for the win!) and Clint was slipping into the vents to explore his surroundings. The vents themselves were easily connected and had nothing to block his progress which never happened. But it let Clint take a quick stock of what he was seeing and form some heavy realizations.

Like the first one. He was in some kind of military base. Men and women were rushing around below him wearing identification badges that they showed to strategically placed military police.

Realization two. This was a research facility of some kind. Not everyone was in full military dress, but nearly everyone was carrying stacks of papers, pencils, and calculators. The murmurs were all about math and projectories while they compared notes while fluttering around like colorful birds. So the facility was looking at some kind of scientific advancement.

Realization three. Clint Barton was in the past, most likely around WWII. He could tell by the dresses the women wore and their heels. The men’s military uniforms looked like Cap’s old dress uniform. The hair cuts, the slang, all of it tied in with the image created by Barnes of WWII. So somehow the Hydra agent had managed to get him sent back to the past.

Realization four. This was most likely a research facility in America, most likely in the south. The southern accents and all English conversations made it pretty clear. But what really cemented in Clint’s mind that he was in the past was when he looked out of the air vent and saw a sign saying “Whites Only” in bold letters. Would Clint ever admit that he froze briefly to just numbly at the sign before moving on? No. Did it clearly inform him that he was stuck somewhere in the past in the southern United States? Yes, yes it did.

But it did certainly make it clear that Clint’s priorities different. He was no longer acting like he was in hostile territory. Instead he had to focus on getting himself back to the present. First thing first, he should probably head back to the room where he started and see if there was something that would send him back.

It was during the crawl back when Clint heard it drifting up through the rafters. A bright, boisterous laugh that was eerily familiar and called to something deep in Clint. It was a noise he had heard a pale imitation of before, but never the real sound.

It was the sound of one Bucky Barnes laughing loudly at something someone said.

Peeking his head through the rafter, Clint stared down at a bizarre scene below. Cap was leaning against a desk, one hand braced on the top, as he laughed and laughed and laughed. He was smaller than Clint remembered, his shoulders less broad and his arms a little thinner. He also just looked young. A heavy weight gone from his face as he grinned, school boy bright at the other person in the room.

A thin omega was glaring back at Cap. His tiny frame was tucked into the remains of a military uniform, but it was coated in a thick layer of oil and soot that turned the material almost black. Bright blue eyes were glaring dangerously at Cap, an almost feral growl being directed at the alpha.

“Buck,” the omega growled out, “It is not funny. Stop laughing.”

“It's hysterical,” Cap managed to get out. He managed to stifle the hysterical laughter into giggles, “Stevie. Baby doll. You’re covered in soot. What even happened?”

“Stark happened Bucky,” Stevie apparently spat out, “Him and his stupid flying car, which he just had to show to Doctor Erskine before he moved it up to New York to the expo.”

That name got Clint’s attention.

“So we went to check it over, and meant to go over the math for the chamber one last time,” Stevie crossed his arms petulantly over his chest, “Then the car exploded and covered everything in soot. Including my notes. Which are now illegible. Completely ruined by Stark.”

“Aw, doll, come here,” Cap reached out, gently drawing the glaring omega into his arms. He leaned down to press a smacking kiss onto the top of grey (probably blond without the soot) hair, eliciting another growl from the omega, “I'm sorry you had a bad day. I know you’re nervous about the math for the serum.”

That definitely got Clint’s attention. The tiny omega knew about the serum? Just who was that guy?

A deep growl caught Clint’s attention. Apparently Cap had dragged the omega to sit on the desk and was looming over the tiny form. Uncaring of the soot getting on him, Cap had buried his nose in the omega’s neck and was pressing kisses against the skin. “Is there a way I can cheer you up doll? After the bad day you had?”

“Nah,” Stevie announced dryly, looking at the alpha fondly, “I cheered myself up by setting Stark’s hair on fire in retaliation.” A blood thirsty smile crossed his face, while Barnes looked painfully in love. It was the weirdest combination Clint had ever seen. Which was why he decided to sneak back through the vents to the office where he'd stashed the Hydra agent.

Luckily, when Clint clambered into the office the knocked out Hydra agent was still tied to the chair and the office was still empty. Which allowed Clint to climb out of the air vent and head over to the agent as he tried to figure out how to get back home. As he knelt down, the door to the office opened.

Clint’s head whipped up, meeting shocked blue eyes before that horrible wrenching feeling and the blackout wrench before he hit the ground of the Hydra lab with a crack while the noise around him skyrocketed.

Groaning in pain, Clint rolled over onto his side. Everything hurt and he wanted to die. Especially when people were grabbing his shoulders and trying to get him to lie on his back. “Aw Nat, no,” Clint whined when her unamused face glared down at him, “Let me lie here and die. I've had a bad day.”

“I don't care, get up,” Nat hissed yanking him back up onto his feet. Whining, Clint pouted at her even as she patted him down to check for injuries. “He’s clear. Nothing broken or burned.”

“That’s good,” came Cap’s deep voice and man that got Clint’s attention. He turned, eyes wide to stare at Barnes. The alpha was dressed in his Captain America uniform, a frown marring his face. The spark from his past self’s eyes was gone, as was the crooked hint of a grin. Instead, Cap just looked serious, sad, and old. Not old like wrinkles (could super soldiers even get wrinkles?) but old like a man who wanted to lay down and sleep for more than a year.

“Holy shit,” Clint breathed out, staring at Bucky blankly, “You look awful.”

Barnes smiled wryly. “Thanks Barton, but you're the one we’re worrying about here,” Barnes explained, “You disappeared on us for a half hour there.”

Clint’s eyes widened in horrified shock, and he opened his mouth to complain when that horrible sucking feeling started up again. It was faster this time, and sent Clint stumbling as he appeared back in the office room, this time without the Hydra agent.

A quick hand shooting out caught the desk, keeping Clint from hitting the ground. A surprised gasp sent the agent into overdrive, head shaping up to face the person standing in the doorway.

The tiny omega, the one Cap had called Stevie, was standing there still covered in ash. He was gaping stupidly, big blue eyes widening as he took in Clint. Then, the shocked expression changed and blanked out even as a tiny (and adorable!) growl built in his chest.

Clint opened his mouth to defend himself from the enraged omega before that awful feeling started up again. A moment. Then he was back in the Hydra lab which all of the Avengers staring worriedly at him.

“Ok,” Tony said slowly, eyes a bit more manic than normal, “Magical appearing and disappearing Barton. That's not normal.”

“Yeah, I know,” Clint snarled back, feeling like he was going to throw up from everything that had just happened, “Is it permanent?”

“We’ll have to find out,” was Cap’s unhelpful pronouncement.

Clint just shut his eyes and groaned in agony. This was going to suck, he already knew it.


	3. Clint Barton: Part Time Time Traveler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint hates time travel. He especially hates random time travel that keeps interrupting his life. He would prefer anything to this.
> 
> (Steve just wants to know who this strange man is who keeps appearing in his daily life.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea of sassy, angry, tiny Steve Rogers. It's one of my favorite things in the entire world, the second being awkward Clint who just wants to go home. 
> 
> Together, they make me so happy. Seriously, they should do a buddy movie of Steve and Clint being dumb and being saved by Natasha and Bucky.

A week ago, Clint managed to get himself blasted by some weird Hydra weapon and ended up in the past. He'd explained what happened at least ninety times (he’d kept count) to Tony and Bruce as they tried to figure out what had happened.

Cap had been there the first day to make sense of what Clint had seen. He'd listened with that pained look on his face and added his own two cents. Yes, Clint had been in the past in Langley. Yes, he'd actually seen Bucky at the institute with an omega named Stevie. Yes, the omega had been working on Project: Rebirth. And then Cap had turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, disappearing into his bedroom and not returning after.

Clint had understood, really. He got Cap’s deal. He’s seen a younger James Barnes laugh and flirt with the pretty omega, and could already guess that the omega was dead seeing how it had been more than seventy years. So Clint felt bad for Cap, but he was a bit more focused on a different problem.

Namely, spontaneous time travel. Which sucked.

So far, Clint had ended up back in the 1940s eight times already. Each time, he would pop in near the blonde omega he’d seen Cap with.

The second through sixth time, the omega had looked furious at seeing Clint appearing near his desk, his living room, and on one memorable occasion his bedroom. The seventh and eighth time, the omega had just looked so resigned and long suffering that it was taking everything Clint had not to laugh at him.

So yeah. It had been a rough week for Clint as he time traveled and Tony and Bruce tried to get it to stop. Everything hurt, and Clint just wasted to sleep without worrying about ending up in a strange place in the past. He was very determined that it would be a restful night, just this once.

Or he was, until that horrible yanking feeling happened again.

With a surprised yelp (not a scream, never a scream) Clint found himself dropping through the blackness into cold open air. He hung suspended for a long minute before dropping with a sickening thud into a pile of trash. The Yelp turned into an incoherent scream of rage at the indignity of the situation and the horribleness that his life had become.

It felt good to let out all the rage and fear from the last week. No one was around to hear him screaming, and even better no one he knew was in the past so they wouldn't see him acting like an idiot in the trash.

God. Clint hated everything about his life right now. Maybe if he worked really hard, he could suffocate himself in the trash.

Or that had been the plan. He had just started on the whole suffocation thing when something sharp poked the soft flesh of his neck. Clint whined, and tried to bury deeper into the trash to escape, but the pointy thing kept poking.

A snarl ripped itself free of Clint’s throat as he turned to bare his teeth at the intruder. “WHAT?!”

A pair of bright blue eyes, completely unimpressed brought Clint up cold. Cpa’s omega, the tiny mathematician, was staring down at Clint like he was the stupidest thing he had ever seen in his life. It was surprisingly rather insulting.

“Come on,” the omega’s deep voice still completely threw Clint off his game, “Get out of the dumpster.”

“What?” No, seriously. What was Clint’s life? Time travel into trash, only to be found by Cap’s tiny grumpy omega.

Who now looked annoyed. “I said get out of the dumpster,” the omega (Stevie, his name is Stevie Clint’s mind helpfully supplied) snapped, “Unless you like hanging around in trash?”

Clint puffed up indignantly. “Well, maybe I do! Ever think of that?”

The omega looked even more unimpressed, which should not have been possible. “Do you actually want to hang out in a dumpster?” Clint slowly shook his head. “Then get the fuck out of it so I can talk to you.”

With a growl, Clint complied. He dragged himself over the edge of the dumpster, rolling onto his feet with a huff and glaring down at the tiny omega. “Out of the dumpster, happy now?”

The tiny head cocked to the side, blue eyes narrowing in thought. “Nope,” Stevie announced dryly, “Can’t do this with you covered in the diners trash. Alright come on.”

“What?”

“Come on, you're heading to my house to rinse off before your stench kills me,” Stevie called back, waving at Clint to follow him down the alley way, “Also, if anyone sees you running around in just shorts you'll be arrested for public indecency.”

With a surprised squawk at realizing he had only gone to sleep in boxers, Clint moved quickly to catch up to the omega. They moved quietly through the darkness, both refusing to look at the other in an attempt to make the whole situation less weird.

After a solid five minutes of silence, Clint couldn't take it and had to start talking. “So, what were you doing out by yourself this late at night?”

“Saying goodbye to my mate,” Stevie admitted quietly. The rage was gone from his voice, replaced by a weary sadness. “He's in the army, ships out early tomorrow morning. So I went to say goodbye at the base. What about you?”

“What about me?”

Stevie stopped, turning to stare incredulously up at Clint. “You keep appearing then disappearing,” he said slowly. “You appear all the time now, I see you more than my mate. You just appeared in a dumpster.” Blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “You showed up in my bedroom.”

“That was not my fault! None of this is my fault!” Clint whined, “Hydra did something to me to make this happen.”

“Hydra?”

“Evil Nazi scientists,” Clint hissed, “Cursed me.”

“Cursed...ok, yeah sure,” Stevie sighed, running his tiny hands over his face, “Let’s go with that. What did they curse you with?”

“Wait, seriously? We're going with this?”

“Just answer the question!”

“Sheesh, fine,” Clint backed away from the fuming omega, “They cursed me to time travel. I keep going backwards in time and ending up here.”

Stevie squinted at Clint. “That's the best you can come up with?”

“Come up with? That's the truth! I'm not making any of this stuff up!”

“Hydra curses and time travel,” Stevie scoffed, “Sure. That's what's happening here.”

“Well then, how would you explain the whole appearing thing?”

“Easy. I got hit so hard in the head last week I'm hallucinating you,” Stevie shrugged, “Or Stark did something and caused this.”

“Stark?”

“Howard Stark. Works at NACA with the doctor.”

“I know his son,” Clint admitted, “We work together on the same team and...hey man, what gives?” He turned back to see Steve standing there, looking horrified as he stared at Clint.

“Stark had a kid?” Stevie rasped out, “Someone let him reproduce?” He turned a sickly green color and swayed a little, “Not a hallucination, my brain wouldn't do this to me. Has to be real. Oh god, that's real then.”

“Um…” Clint rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Tony’s really not that bad.”

“He’s a Stark,” Stevie spat out like that actually meant anything to Clint.

The pair of them stared at each other, not entirely sure what to do or say. The silence continued to grow, becoming more and more awkward until Clint just couldn't take it anymore. He opened his mouth to say anything to get the conversation rolling when that horrible feeling came back.

A blink of an eye, and Clint was standing in the middle of his living room. “Huh,” he muttered briefly wondering how long it would take him to end up back in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Steve and Clint actually talked for once! Actual human interaction between the two.
> 
> Next chapter I'm going back to Steve's POV, and their friendship will start to grow.


	4. Steve: Late Night Dinners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is exhausted and just wants to sleep. He does not have time to deal with this strange man who keeps appearing in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Clint sit down and have an actual conversation for once. Not a lot will come out, but some good natured bonding will happen.
> 
> Steve may seem increadibly open with a stranger, but there is rationale. Steve is alone, his mate leaving him to go to war, he's exhausted and just needs to vent. Client just happens to be in the right place at the right time. 
> 
> As for Clint, he's still adjusting to this. He's less involved with figuring it out because Tony and Bruce are still working on it. That will be changing soon.

Steve was exhausted as he dragged himself through the front door of his home. His breath was rattling in his lungs, catching on every exhale with the threat of an asthma attack. His eyes hurt from squinting, his back ached, and his fingers felt raw.

The joy of spending an entire day bent over stacks of papers checking on numbers. He’d looked over calculations on the ratio of drugs they won,d be injecting into the specimen, how large the needles had to be, the dimensions of the chamber, which types of metal would work best, and how much energy would be needed to make it work. Everything Erskine did, Steve double and triple checked for make sure it was perfect.

And Steve was so thankful that Erskine understood his compulsion to check the numbers, how the good doctor had taught Steve all the science behind what he was doing and how it all worked (unlike some people who always got offended that Steve had to do his job and check their math). Erskine was a prince among men for being so patient with Steve through the whole project.

Especially because Steve knew his Bucky would be stepping into that chamber. Steve had known months ago that Erskine was choosing Bucky. In fact, Steve had known the moment when Erskine had chosen his mate. Bucky had come to pick Steve up from work, which the ladies all cooed was so romantic. (It wasn’t. Bucky just didn't trust Steve to make it home without picking a fight). He'd stumbled across an asshole alpha getting in the face of some poor omega secretary and hadn’t hesitated before stepping in.

Steve, who had seen the whole thing, had been stupidly proud. Until he saw the doctor’s considering face turned to his mate, then the pride had turned to dread.

His Buck was going to get in that chamber and undergo a theoretical medical procedure soon. Erskine wanted him, Philips wanted him, hell Steve wanted him to do it because this super soldier stuff would give his mate a better chance of surviving the war. So in a few weeks, his Bucky would climb into the chamber and have to trust in math to get him out.

And Steve, who was sickly and frail and incapable of bearing a pup, was not going to let math fail Bucky. Not when he could make it work.

So yeah, Steve was exhausted and hurt and just wanted to go to sleep.

Which was why when that strange time traveler suddenly appeared in the middle of his living room, he wanted to cry.

“Really,” Steve muttered darkly, knuckling his aching eyes, “We have to do this today?”

“I’m sorry?” The strange alpha said sheepishly, trying to make himself look smaller. “I can climb out the window or something?”

Steve sighed, already regretting snapping at the same man who obviously couldn't control what was happening judging from the last time with the dumpster.

“No, it's fine,” Steve admitted wryly, “I'm just tired and hungry and it's been a long day.”

“I get it man,” the alpha grumbled before gesturing at one of the worn armchairs, “It alright if I take a seat.”

“Yeah, sure.” And it really was fine. Now that Steve was a bit more focused he could see how exhausted the alpha was. He was wearing worn, almost threadbare clothing and had dark bags under his eyes. “Long day for you too?”

“Yeah, shitty day at the office,” he sent Steve a wan smile as he crumpled into the chair.

Steve managed to must a ghost of the smile, even if it hurt to move his face. “And then you had to show up here. Can't be much of an improvement.”

The alpha grinned broadly back looking years younger. “I'm not in a dumpster, so it's looking up.”

A short bark of laughter left Steve as he wandered into the kitchen, “So, strange alpha who keeps showing up, got a name I can call you?”

There was a long moment of silence, as the alpha thought it over. Steve busied his hands not to push for an answer, pulling the soup pot out of the fridge and setting it on the oven to heat up. A proud smile crossed his face as he ran a fond hand over the fridge. He'd worked hard to save up for it, while Bucky’s savings had gotten them this house.

Turning away from the fridge, Steve bumped into a wall of solid muscle. He yelled back in up so he could stare up at the unreadable alpha before him. “Clint,” the time traveler admitted, “That's my name.”

Steve nodded, storing the name away for future reference. “Well Clint, I hope you like cabbage stew because that's all I got for food tonight.”

Clint just shrugged, continuing to watch as Steve pulled bowls out of the cupboard. “Have you told your mate?” Clint asked.

Of course. Such a typical alpha thing to ask. Did Steve’s mate know about this whole bizarre situation because clearly omegas couldn't handle it themselves. It made Steve was to scream and throw something at his head. But instead Steve just blinked slowly, playing clueless, “About what?”

“About the random alpha who keeps randomly showing up from the future,” Steve had to turn away to hide his smirk at the annoyed tone of voice from Clint.

“I haven't,” Steve quickly labeled the soup into two bowls. “Don't want my alpha to think I'm crazy and send me away…”

“That’s not why you haven't told him.”

There was absolute sincerity in Clint’s voice, a heavy belief that made Steve freeze. “What?”

“You're lying about why you haven't told your mate about this,” Clint slid into one of the kitchen chairs, “I know Barnes, he'd never dismiss something you say as being insane. He'd check it out no matter what. So you're lying about why you haven't told him.”

Steve set the bowls down slowly. “You know Bucky,” he hated how tiny his voice sounded.

“I know James Barnes,” Clint tugged the bowl close as he picked up a spoon Steve offered.

Well, Steve mused sliding into the seat himself, this changed things. This wasn't some random man, he was connected to Bucky in some way. Hell, he could even be time traveling due to the project because Steve had missed some sort of variable in the numbers.

So maybe, to catch something and make sure Bucky came out alright, Steve should tell the truth for once.

“Buck’s a worrier,” Steve admitted lowly, slowly dragging his spoon through the stew, “Always has been, especially when I get sick or in trouble. Which happens a lot. He’s...he’s involved in some project for the government…”

“Project: Rebirth.”

Steve looked up, eyes narrowing suspiciously, “How did you know that? It's classified.”

Clint snorted, “Time travel. Future. Not classified there.”

Yeah, sure it wasn't pal. “Anyway,” Steve grumbled, “Bucko needs to focus on that. It's all brand new science, so a lot can go wrong. He needs to be prepared, be worrying about himself so he comes out safe and sound at the end. He can't worry about me, or this whole situation, right now.” Because Bucky had to be fine. He had to be okay, had to come home to Steve.

Because if he died, Steve probably wouldn't survive that. The bond shock of losing a mate wouldn't kill him, the broken heart would.

The kitchen was silent after that, the clinking of spoon on bowl the only sound. Steve refused to look up. Not when tears were filling his eyes. He refused to cry in front of anyone who wasn't Bucky. It would not happen.

Clint was the one to break the silence. “You know, I've known Barnes for a while now,” Clint admitted softly, catching Steve’s attention. He looked up, meeting a sly grin that went against the gentle voice, “And I can honestly say that you're too good for him.”

Steve snorted, a wry grin spreading across his face. “Nah, he's the only one who stuck around because my cooking if awful.”

Clint was purposefully not looking at the stew he'd taken a few bites of. “It's not that bad.”

“It’s a fucking disaster, and this stew tastes like death,” Steve pointed out, “You can admit it.”

Clint tried to continue to look stoic as he took a bite of the stew, but then grimaced as it hit his taste buds. “It doesn't taste like death?” He offered. “More like moldy socks?”

Steve smiled, “I'll take it. And you don't have to keep eating it if you don't want to.”

“Oh thank god, yes,” Clint pushed the stew away, his open relief making Steve laugh, “How is so awful?”

“Talent,” Steve hummed, “Oh, and Clint?”

“Yeah?”

“Call me Steve.”

Silence.

Not that Steve expecting an answer, seeing how Clint had just disappeared back to whatever time he came from. Leaving Steve alone, with two bowls of awful stew and an empty house.

With a sigh, Steve pushed his stew aside and buried his head in shaking hands. He had to go rest, Steve knew that. He had to sleep so he could check the math again tomorrow morning to make sure Bucky would be safe. Because Steve couldn't lose his mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, they know each other's names and that about it. More will be coming later as the boys start to figure out the details of how they got here.
> 
> Also, not going to lie, Steve not being able to cook is a favorite head cannon. Just the image of Steve trying really hard and Bucky forcing down something truly awful while trying to tell his favorite guy it's good is hilarious in my mind.


	5. Steve Rogers: The Omega Who Created Captain America

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the deadline for Project: Rebirth grows closer, Steve has no time to focus on the whole Clint problem. He needs to focus on making sure his Bucky will survive and come home safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be more building of what life was like in the 40s. There is going to be sexism mentioned that Steve faces in his daily life. It's going to slowly build, especially as Clint interacts more with America over 70 years ago. 
> 
> I also got a question about why Bucky didn't see Clint in chapter 2, which should be answered here. 
> 
> There is also going to be reference to character death offscreen at the end of the chapter.

Hunched over his desk, Steve was going through the numbers for Project: Rebirth again. There had been an adjustment to the math on the chamber over the night, the amount of metal had increased which meant that the concentration of vita-rays would have to increase as well.

Erskine had looked sheepish when he handed Steve the Manila folder, but Steve had just waved off the absent minded apologies. They both knew there was nowhere else Steve would want to be today.

So he'd stumbled back to his office after swinging by the mess for coffee and settled in to read. There were a few other folders hidden in his desk he would have to check as well. Stark had something else he needed checked, and some scientists back in the West had a project they wanted only the best to double check (which was somehow Steve Rogers Barnes).

He was just moving through the part of the calculations factoring in the position of the Rays on distribution when Clint appeared in the office. Steve, who did not want to lose his place, simply grunted a hello and continued to work. Time passed around him, distant and irrelevant compared to the calculations.

Eventually though, Steve managed to finish triple checking and pulled himself back into the world. His back ached, his fingers burned, and his temples were pounding from the hyper focus he'd been holding. Still, the numbers were done so he pushed them away and mustered a ghost of a smile. “Hey Clint.”

Clint, who had perched himself on the corner of Steve’s desk, gave him a bright smile back. “Hey Steve. How’re the numbers going?”

“They’re going somewhere,” Steve rubbed his eyes tiredly, already feeling them ache, “If that somewhere is anywhere good, I'll find out soon.”

Clint hummed, eyes darting around the empty office. It wasn't much, Steve knew that, but it was his. His place to work, to get away from the bustle of the military complex, all his. Most computers never got close to this type of office, spending time with other workers in large cramped spaces.

“So, I was wondering,” Clint’s voice broke Steve out of his thoughts, “That first day I showed up? You were with Barnes.”

“Yeah?”

“But he didn't come back here to the office,” Clint frowned.

“That's right.”

“But he was shipping out. And from what I've observed, I didn't think he'd leave you alone if he was leaving.”

“Normally you'd be right and that big lug would be under foot,” Steve turned his attention down to his fingers, flexing them over and over again to remove the ache. It was easier to focus there instead of looking at Clint, “But he's not allowed in the office, or anywhere near it.”

“Why not?”

A pained smirk crossed his face, “Cause I'm an omega. And you what omegas are like.”

Anyone else would nod sagely, except the ones who knew better. Their eyes would narrow in annoyance, either grumbling at Steve for listening to those idiots of at the government for passing those stupid rules keeping Bucky away in the first place. Bucky though would just press a kiss to Steve’s cheek and hold him close, promising the world would be better (Steve missed that, a constant aching wound).

But Clint just looked confused, “Why would you being an omega keep Barnes away?”

“According to the government, omegas are too distracting to their mates,” Steve spat out, “We're more likely to go into heat around our mates, and heat is a distraction to the hardworking alphas around us. So it's illegal for a mated alpha and an omega to be alone together in their private work places. You know, so my omeganess doesn't become an issue for Bucky.”

“That...I don't even know what to say to that,” Clint shook his head harshly, “That's just messed up and backwards. You can't be trusted alone with your own mate?”

“Yep, cause all omegas are only focused on sex and being bred to give alphas lots of pups,” Steve had to look away from Clint, not wanting the alpha to see his frustrated tears. “So Bucky can't come in my office, and I can't visit him at the barracks cause then I'll distract all the alphas, so we have to be supervised the entire time!” The ridiculous unfairness of it all made Steve want to scream and cry and break something.

“That's insane,” Clint huffed, “I mean, I remember hearing that omegas used to face shit like this, but just…”

“Actually seeing it?” Steve turned, offering a wry smile. “I get it. First time I saw that whites only sign I froze, just horrified that it actually existed.”

“But you two were together the first time I saw you,” Clint murmured.

Steve blinked, coming back to the conversation. His brow furrowed as he tried to remember their first meeting. “No we weren't. Bucky stayed behind when I came to get my wallet to go home.”

“No, that was the second time. The first time it was you and Barnes alone in a room,” Steve just stared, causing a slight flush of embarrassment to spears across Clint’s cheeks, “Um, I was in the air vents and saw you?”

Of course. Of course Clint would climb around in air vents, that wasn't the weirdest part of this whole thing. “Ah, that. Well, we weren't technically alone?”

Now it was Clint’s turn to stare.

Steve coughed, looking away in embarrassment. “That was Dr. Erskine’s office here. Technically he was there, and he most definitely did not leave to get some ice cream from the cafeteria to give us some alone time?”

Clint grinned. “That a question or a statement Steve?”

“It's whatever you damn well want it to be asshole,” Steve grumbled which got a bark of laughter out of Clint before he disappeared again, leaving Steve alone in his office.

Still flushed and smiling, Steve turned his attention back to his desk and one special piece of paper. He’d forgotten about it until Clint showed up, and was now determined to have a quick look. Stark’s calculations could wait, this took precedent.

“I heard laughter earlier, but now I just see my favorite assistant sitting alone surrounded by math. How sad.”

The droll voice brought a bright smile onto Steve’s face. His head shot up as he directed his focus to the smiling beta standing in the doorway.

“Dr. Erskine, sir,” Steve started to shuffle through the papers on his desk, “You must be here for the calculations…”

“No, I'm here because I heard you laughing,” Erskine stepped into the room, a scowl on his face, “And that is not allowed.”

Steve sighed even as he struggled to school his face into a serious expression. He already knew where this was going. Erskine had been making these jokes since the first time Steve laughed at work. “I know sir. Laughing is prohibited except in special cases.”

“And what are those cases Steve Barnes?”

“When you tell a joke sir.”

“Exactly, you’re my assistant, you laugh at my jokes,” Erskine grinned, quicksilver and bright as he stepped inside. Gently he reached out to fondly knock his knuckles against Steve’s temple, “You have informed your mate about this rule?”

“Yes doctor, and it will be no hardship to uphold,” Steve nodded seriously, “Cause Bucky’s jokes are a crime against nature.”

“Too true. I'll never understand how such a brute won over such a superior mate,” Steve flushed again at the fondness and pride in Erskine’s voice. God, he adored his boss. Even if his boss did have a bad habit of snooping through Steve’s papers.

“The Manhattan Project,” Erskine murmured, fixing Steve with a shrewd eye, “Do you know what it is?”

“No doctor, seeing how the majority of the document is redacted.”

“If you hold it up to the light…”

“Which I will when I eventually get to it. But I had to check over the numbers for Project: Rebirth again.”

Erskine’s face turned gentle, a soft sadness crossing it as he placed a fatherly hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Steven. We’ve talked about this. Yes, this is new science for America but I have pulled it off before…”

“And that man now has a red skull for a face and delusions of grandeur,” Steve deadpanned, “Excuse me if I don't want my mate to have a skull face. I’m quite fond of his current good lucks.”

“Then we will need to make sure he remains attractive for your viewing pleasure,” Erskine smiled at the surprised bark of laughter that escaped Steve even as he continued to look through the papers. His eyes lighted onto the document resting closest to them, “That’s not an official document.”

“Oh, no sir it's a personal project,” Steve quickly handed it over at Erskine's questioning hand.

“Einstein’s theory of relativity combined with physics, specifically relating to time, and some calculations you most likely got from Howard,” Erskine hummed thoughtfully, “If I didn't know better, I'd say you were dealing with time travel.”

Steve’s eyes ducked to the table, “I am.”

“Really? Why the sudden change in heart? When Howard mentioned it as a possibility you called him a crackpot,” a chiding look was sent towards Steve.

Steve scowled back, unwilling to back down on the whole Stark issue (as Bucky called it) before grudgingly answering the question. “I met a time traveler.”

“A time traveler?”

“I’m not making it up,” Steve snapped.

“I never said you were,” was the mile rebuke before a warm smile was given, “We are creating a formula that will turn your husband into a super soldier. New strides are being made every day into scientific advances that seemed impossible just ten years ago, and they are happening in this building. It is an incredible, and tragic, time to be alive. So I do not doubt that time travel is in the realm of probability. My only question is have you told James yet?”

“I haven't, and I know I should,” Steve looked away, “But he's going through basic and then will get the serum. I don't want him to be worrying about this when there are bigger things to focus on.”

Erskine gave a thoughtful frown but was interrupted from responding by Clint’s sudden reappearance in the room. Steve, who had grown used to this, didn't even blink as the flustered alpha looked mournfully around the room.

“Aw coffee no,” Clint whined slumping down against the desk. “I just got that cup perfect and everything.”

“So,” Erskine’s dry voice caught Clint’s attention and drew Steve’s eyes back up to the doctor, “Time travel. It's real.”

Clint just stared, mouth hanging open in shock even as Steve scowled. “You said you believed me,” was his accusation.

“I was saying that to make you feel better. It sounded like nonsense,” Erskine smiled even as Steve grumbled darkly under his breath, before turning his attention back to Clint, “So. This is the time traveler.”

“Um, yeah,” Steve sighed at Clint’s hesitant answer before digging a bony elbow painfully into his side, “I mean, yes sir. I am.”

“This is Clint,” Steve snorted, “He’s been cursed by Hydra to show up in dumpsters and eat my awful cooking.”

“Hydra you say,” Erskine hummed thoughtfully, “And how do you know about them?”

“Captain Barnes.” Clint sent a look toward Steve, who just shrugged. Hydra Steve knew a little about, (just a name. Erskine wouldn't talk about it and Steve wasn't allowed in SSR meetings) but magic and enchantments were obviously made up. Clint just sighed no doubt seeing the remaining vestiges of disbelief in Steve’s eyes, “Cap fights Hydra.”

Erskine’s eyebrows rose, “And you? Do you fight for Hydra?”

“No sir, I work to stop them,” Clint shrugged helplessly, “Just got caught in the crossfire and ended up running into Steve here. Repeatedly.”

Erskine hummed, “So Hydra, which Sergeant Barnes opposes, accidentally sent you here. To run into Steve,” he stared pointedly at Clint, who was turning pale, “Repeatedly.”

Steve was halfway out of his chair when Clint started to turn green, “Clint?”

Clint waved him off, eyes locked somewhere in the distance. “It’s fine Steve, don't worry. I'm alright.”

“You sure?” Steve reached out to gently touch the man’s elbow, “You look really sick.”

“I'm alright, just realized something,” Clint nodded in Erskine’s direction, “Thank you. I hadn't even thought of that.” And then he was gone leaving the two in the office.

“What did you tell him about,” Steve asked lowly.

Erskine just gently pulled out the papers for the Manhattan Project, purposefully not looking at him, “Make sure you check these numbers soon. This is an important project.”

“You aren't going to tell me, are you,” Steve asked quietly.

Erskine smiled, a small heartbroken thing, “No, not yet.”

“But you will.”

“One day soon, I'll tell you what I implied to your friend,” Erskine fondly nudged Steve’s shoulder, “I promise you.”

And Steve, naively, believed him. Erskine had never broken a promise to him before so why would he do it now?

Except a week later, Erskine was dead. Murdered by an enemy agent and taking his answer to the grave. Steve, covered in blood and struggling to cry, wouldn't be aware of the broken promise for five more hours after the assassination. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abraham Erskone everyone, one of my favorite characters. My head cannon is he basically adopted tiny, feisty Steve Rogers and the two hang out together all the time. He's the disapproving parent grumbling about how no one is good enough for his genius assistant while Steve just sighs and works on the numbers.
> 
> Poor Bucky though. First Clint, now Erskine thinking he isn't good enough for Steve. The poor guy doesn't stand a chance.


	6. Steve and Clint: Keeping the World Turning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of Project: Rebirth is here. All Steve wants is for his Bukcy to come back to him safe and sound. All Clint wants is to get this time travel thing under control and maybe hide in some air vents. 
> 
> By the end of the day, both are stuck in a nighmare they want to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a little fluff but a lot of angst in this chapter and we finally have Captain America.
> 
> As for the Steve and Howard thing, they're sort of friends? But not really?
> 
> So, off screen, they work together. And Steve's a computer, someone who you don't really pay attention to because he's just a number checker. In my head, Howard made some sexist comment along those lines, Steve got offended, and now they're stuck in a Cold War where Howard's trying to say sorry and Steve is going to kill him. So more like frienemies than anything else. So yeah, that's what's happening between them.

Slipping inside the observation room, Steve shut the door quickly before pressing his forehead against the cool metal. His flushed cheeks needed the shock before he turned to face his husband.

Bucky was the only other occupant in the room, granted a bit of privacy as he changed from his dress uniform into a soft shirt and slacks. He was so handsome, Steve couldn't handle it sometimes, all smoky eyes and dark hair. Lottie, Howard’s secretary, always sighed about how Steve had pulled the perfect mate.

And now that perfect mate was going to throw himself to the wolves. A distressed whine left Steve as he stumbled forward, Bucky’s head darting up to meet his teary eyes.

“Ah, doll,” Bucky crooned striding forward to pull Steve into his arms, “Sweetheart don't cry. Everything is going to be fine.”

Steve sobbed, tucking himself against the broad chest and holding on tight. “You have to be fine,” Steve wailed, months of stress and panic finally bursting, “You have to come out alive and without a red face and if you die I’ll probably kill myself…”

A furious growl cut through Steve’s hysterical triads as strong arms grabbed thin arms. Furious, Bucky gave his mate a quick shake to get him to stop talking before tugging Steve closer again. Seething, Bucky roughly rubbed his face against the delicate neck, spreading his scent over the distressed omega. “You never say anything like that again Steven Barnes, you hear me,” Bucky growled, fury and rage contained in tight muscles, “You are never going to so much as think about that, let alone say it.”

Steve whined, “I don't want to live without you Buck…”

“And I don't want my baby doll to be cold and buried before he’s twenty five,” Bucky dragged Steve into a searing kiss, pressing the smaller frame back against the wall as he licked into Steve’s sweet mouth. Pulling back, Bucky pressed his forehead to Steve’s gently rubbing their noses together, “If anything happens, no Steve let me finish. If anything happens I want you to live a long happy life, understand me?”

Steve nodded hesitantly before leaning up to offer a quick kiss. “Love you Bucky,” Steve murmured softly, gently reaching up to play with dark hair.

“Love you too, you punk,” Bucky nuzzled him close “I'll be fine love. You made sure the numbers were correct, and you're the smartest guy I know.” Steve, still hesitant, gave in with a weak nod as he pressed a gentle kiss to Bucky’s mating mark.

The sound of the door opening had them pulling back, turning to sheepishly meet the permanently amused Erskine. “Come now Steven,” the doctor teased gently, “I know your Sergeant Barnes is irresistible, but we need to get moving.”

“Sorry sir,” Bucky responded when it was clear that Steve couldn't right then. He gathered his baby doll close and led the unresponsive omega over to the doctor, “I distracted him.”

“Oh, I know you did. Terrible influence on such a wonderful assistant,” Erskine smiled gently down at Steve reaching up to tap his knuckles against Steve’s temple. It was a fond, familiar gesture from Langley where Steve would get lost in the math and Erskine would draw him back out to eat or go home or rest.

And even here it worked. Steve blinked slowly, refocusing on the world around him. “Sir?”

“I wanted to get you because Howard is here,” Erskine said mildly, “And setting up the machines.”

A dangerous growl pushed its way out of Steve’s throat at the thought before he was pushing away from his mate and rushing down the hallway. The MP’s let him by quickly, and Steve went clattering down the stairs to get to the mess of wires and machine des set up in the room before him.

In the center, holding court was Howard Stark. The inventor was looking at he machines with Colonel Phillips, the both of them speaking in hushed voices about the procedure not that Steve really cared. He only had eyes for the device that would release the vita rays, shoving his way close to it while sending a quicksilver smile to Peggy.

Thin fingers began to go over the machine, checking the cables and plugs and wires for any damage. A determined scowl crossed his face as he mentally compared what he was seeing to the diagrams he had been developing for months.

The scowl deepened when Howard moved to stand beside him, a charming grin crossing his face, “You know, it's like you don't trust me with this Steve.”

“Why Mr. Stark, I have no idea what you're talking about,” Steve grumbled, “Just because you are incapable of creating something without an explosion or four…”

“Only happened once, Mrs. Barnes…”

“Fuck you, it happened twelve times and I still have soot in my best shoes,” Steve glared at him, “I’m not letting you blow up Bucky either. He's too attractive for that.”

“Aw thanks Stevie,” Bucky drawled, coming forward to tug the angry blonde into a hug, “Glad to know you're only with me for my looks.”

“And your cooking, cause God knows your wife can't cook,” Howard muttered before yelping in pain when Steve punched his arm hard. Rubbing the rapidly bruising area, Howard nervously stepped away from Steve’s dangerous glare.

“Children enough, we have work to do,” Erskine sighed in his long suffering way before fixing Peggy with a mournful look, “You see what I deal with everyday?”

Peggy, used to the controlled chaos from her visits to the lab, simply sighed before gently taking Steve’s arm in her grip. “Come on, let's leave the mad scientists to play and get to the observation room before the best seats are taken,” she gently led Steve away from the machines.

Steve followed reluctantly, knowing he couldn't stay. Philips had insisted, saying he didn't want Steve too close to his mate in case something happened and Steve lost it. Now more than ever, Steve was thankful Philips had bent the rules enough for Steve to see his husband in private before the procedure started.

Twisting around in Peggy’s iron grip, Steve bared his teeth at Howard. “If anything happens to my husband in there, I'm going to hunt you down Stark and make you pay!”

With Bucky and Erskine’s exasperated sighs and Howard’s offended yelp offered, Steve allowed Peggy to herd him up the stairs and next to a stoic Philips.

“Colonel Philips,” Steve greeted coolly, pressing in closer to Peggy’s comforting presence.

“Mrs. Barnes,” was the response. A heavy silence held over the trio for a long moment as Bucky was prepared to go into the machine. “You know,” Philips mused as Bucky was put in the machine, “After that display I'm starting to be thankful you're staying at Langley to keep working.”

“Why's that sir?” Steve couldn't tear his eyes away as Erskine gently shut the metal doors on his husband, trapping him in the chamber.

“Cause if you went to war, there would be nothing left for the rest of us to fight,” Philips deadpanned, “And I don't want to explain to Washington that a tiny slip of an omega won Europe for us.”

“Well, if it's so your boys can continue to look good, I guess I can stand staying at Langley.” Steve shared a grin with Peggy as Philips grumbled good naturedly about mouthy omegas, relaxing a little as the tension cut.

But that tension racked back up when Erskine and Howard turned on their machines. Steve couldn't hear every word, but he could hear Bucky starting to scream. Steve but his lip to keep from crying out, cutting through it and tasting blood on his tongue. His mate mark was burning, the way it would when a mate was in extreme duress and close to dying. Every instinct in Steve screamed at him to run down there, defend his hurt mate, drag Bucky to safety and never let him go...but he couldn't. He had to stand there because there was nothing he could do.

Then, almost as quickly as it started, the procedure was over.

Steve broke away from Peggy’s hold, rushing down the stairs toward his mate even as Bucky was climbing out of the chamber. He slipped around Erskine’s fond smile, ignored Stark’s smug look, and skidded to a stop in front of his husband.

His husband whose eyes and smile were still the same.

“Your alright,” Steve breathed out, relief making him dizzy. He didn't swoon towards his mate (he never swoons, so shut up) but he did step closer, pressing his hands against the expanse of tan skin. A fine eyebrow climbed higher. “You got bigger.”

Bucky grinned down at him, leaning in close to nuzzle Steve’s temple. “You like it doll,” he rumbled, voice still carrying that same gravel that always caused heat to pool in Steve’s belly.

And it was no different now. Flushing slightly, Steve briskly patted Bucky’s huge bicep (it was so big! He’d be able to carry Steve around with one arm without any effort now, oh god) before determinedly not looking at anything except Bucky’s eyes. “Well,” Steve muttered, aware of all the eyes on them, “It’s pretty alright.”

Bucky’s squawk of indignation was cut off before it could even begin as the observation room exploded. Strong arms wrapped around Steve, dragging him to the ground as Bucky covered him, shielding his mate from the glass and debris. Screams and gunshots sounded around them, muffled by Steve’s bad ear and Bucky’s warm palm cradling his head. “You alright,” Bucky rumbled dragging Steve to his knees.

Steve nodded, unable to actually form any words. Bucky nodded, pressing a quick kiss to Steve’s forehead before dragging him up and to his feet. A quick scan of the room had Steve crying out, wrenching his arm away from Bucky and rushing across the glass covered ground.

“Oh god,” Steve wailed, dropping to his knees besides Erskine. Erskine, who was patient and kind with Steve, was laying on the ground bleeding out from a gunshot wound. Steve didn't even hesitate, just dropped to know needs against the glass and the blood and dragged the dying man into his lap.

Erskine reached up, knocking bloody knuckles against Steve’s temple, leaving a smear of blood Steve didn't even notice. He couldn't notice it yet, he was too focused on pressing his hands against the gunshot wound, trying to stop the bleeding. People were rushing around him, orders being barked, panic growing as they attempted to respond to the attack.

All Steve cared about was the man dying in his arms, bleeding out against the steel.

“Barnes, Barnes come on, Steve get up,” insistent hands wrapped around his shoulders, drawing him away even as he twisted and fought to stay close, “Come on, Bucky’ll kill you if you if you stay here, I need to get you somewhere safe.”

Steve trembled as he was dragged to his feet, pushed along and out of the room. Through blurry eyes, he could look up at the person who was guiding him away. “Howard,” Steve gasped out, “Howard I need to go back, I can still help him, Howard let me go!”

The inventor just grimaced, gently guiding Steve back the room where he’d held Bucky before. God, that moment felt like it had happened a lifetime ago. Gently Howard maneuvered Steve into a chair, kneeling down in front of the distressed omega. “Steve, I need you to stay here for now. Just until it's safe,” Howard ordered, “Do you understand me?”

Steve shook his head, thoughts scattered in the wind of fear and panic he'd just experienced. Frantic fingers tugged at Howard’s cuff, hazy blue eyes staring up at him, “Erskine...he needs to go to the hospital. Howard, you need to take him there. He needs to go in, they need to fix him.”

“Alright, sounds good. I'll take him in,” Howard promised, “But you need to stay in here. I can only help him if you stay here, where it's safe.”

Steve didn't remember responding, but he must have because Howard left. Alone Steve could feel his mind drifting, floating away from him as he just saw the blood spreading from the bullet wound, Erskine slowly turning more and more grey. A pained, scared whine left Steve as he curled into himself.

Then, reality began to realign. A warm hand gently cupped his cheek, while another pressed against his thundering heart. A deep voice was calling Steve back from his panic, bringing him back to reality.

“Hey, Steve, I need you to breathe with me,” the familiar voice murmured. Familiar, but not his Bucky, so it took a bit longer for Steve to actually come back. Slowly, reality returned and Steve blinked back into the present, staring at the worried alpha crouching in front of him.

Clint, eyes serious, was kneeling there. He looked worried, Steve realized distantly. “Steve, hey buddy,” Clint gently tapped his chest, regaining the drifting attention, “I need you to focus, alright?”

“Alright…”

“Good, good. Okay, I need you to answer,” the hand on his face was warm, heavy with tension, “Is any of that blood yours?”

“What?” Steve shook his head again, it felt like he was stuck in molasses.

“The blood, Steve. Is it yours? Are you hurt?”

Hazy eyes darted down. “Oh,” Steve whispered, staring down at the remains of his white shirt which was coated in drying blood, “No, it's not mine.”

“You’re not injured?” Clint demanded, voice hard.

“No, but the doctor is,” hot tears began to prickle against Steve’s eyes, “They shot him. Someone shot him.”

Clint’s eyes squeezed closed, a grimace crossing his face. “Hydra,” Clint rasped out, “Fuck, Hydra was here.”

Hydra. Steve knew that name. “The ones who cursed you,” Steve muttered, “Your bullshit excuse for time travel.”

That got a relieved smile out of Clint, “Yeah man, rub my face in the shitty lie will you?” His eyes darted back toward the door before focusing in Steve. “Look, they can't find me here Steve. Especially right now, someone can't walk in here and see some stranger hanging around.”

“You’re leaving?” For some reason, that filled Steve with a deep and twisting dread. Frantic fingers clutched onto Clint’s shirt, something too soft and brightly colored.

“Hey, I'm not leaving you. I'm just going to hide in the air vent there,” gently, so gently, Clint turned Steve’s head to show him the vent. “I'm going to wait there, make sure you stay safe until Barnes comes to get you. Understand?”

Steve nodded slowly, “Bucky’s coming.” He took in a shuddering breath, feeling the world realign itself. “You're going to hide, and Bucky is going to come get me.”

“Exactly,” Clint grinned, bright and sharp and predatory, “You're going to be fine Steve. I promise.”

And then Clint was gone, and Steve was all alone in the room. Coated in blood, body shaking from shock, and working himself into a fit when the door swung open and Bucky came rushing into the room.

Steve threw himself out of the chair, sprinting across the ground to latch onto Bucky, to tuck himself in close to that beloved warmth and just cry. And Bucky, broader and stronger than before, wrapped himself around Steve, pressed frantic kisses against his mate’s face and whispered, “You’re safe. Oh god Stevie, you're safe. I'm never letting you go. Doll, I'm going to take care of you.”

And Steve, who normally hated that kind of talk and typically would smack his mate for saying that, just cried out and pressed closer. “Bucky, Bucky, husband, you're here, you're okay, oh god Bucky don't leave me…”

As the two mates fell into each other, Clint watched it all silently from the air vent. He watched Barnes shatter apart, clinging to Steve and hiding the omega from the world with his body. Like Steve was the only thing that mattered in this world and Barnes would do anything to keep him safe.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Clint pressed his face into the metal of the vent. Watching them together hurt. Captain America in the future was a shell of the man standing there, just an echo of the care and devotion being gently murmured into Steve’s ears.

God. Steve. That was a whole other mess.

When Clint had appeared and seen Steve coated in blood, he'd frozen. Not for long, but enough to make his heart stop. Erskine’s warning had rung through his head as he'd calmed Steve down.

Why would Hydra set up a time traveling device that targeted Steve Rogers, that kept dropping Clint into his life at random points? What was so special about Steve Rogers?

At first, Clint had thought it was about Project: Rebirth. That Steve’s connection there had made him a target.

Or he had until now.

Gritting his teeth together as he was pulled through time, Clint snarled in helpless rage as he dropped into the common area where the Avengers were meeting. Frustrated tears pricked his eyes as Natasha and Sam helped him to his feet, rage pushed at his throat even while Bruce and Tony muttered about checking the science again because this was ridiculous. Helplessness spread in Clint's chest as he opened his eyes to meet Barnes’s concerned expression.

Why would Hydra want to kill Steve Rogers? Because it would destroy James Buchanan Barnes. It was a solid, hard fact Clint faced every day now, watching Barnes live a half life without Steve by his side.

The unfairness, the injustice, the sheer rage at this happening to his friend (yes, Steve was Clint’s friend. He laughed, smiled, and fed Clint, he was too damn good for this shitty world and he genuinely liked Clint) made Clint push Natasha gently away and step in Barnes’s space.

“It's Hydra,” Clint breathed out, shaking hand grabbing Cap’s sleeve. Tony’s indignant cry that of course this was caused by Hydra was ignored when Clint looked into Cap’s shadowy eyes. Eyes that were dull and dead without his spitfire mate around, “Hydra’s doing this to get to you Cap. God, I'm so stupid for taking so long to get it.”

“Clint,” Barnes grabbed his shoulder, “What are you talking about?”

“What's the best way for Hydra to defeat Captain America?” Clint laughed, a joyless noise remembering Erskine’s sad eyes, “By going after Steve Rogers.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason why it took so long for Clint to figure out the reason Hydra's going after Steve is because he's only seen Bucky and Steve together once, and that was briefly. Bucky, in the 2000s, is a shell of the man whose married to Steve and Clint just realized it. 
> 
> He didn't see Captain America, he saw Bukcy Barnes and finally realized how stupidly in love he is with Steve. Once he actually got all the facts, he figured it out.
> 
> Next chapter, Bucky gets to learn about the whole Hydra trying to kill Steve thing which is going to be a fun talk for Clint.


	7. Clint Barton: The Defender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Operation Save Steve Rogers (or Barnes, who even knows his name at this point) is a go. With a plan of action, and allies by his side, nothing will stop Clint Barton from keeping Steve alive.
> 
> Except maybe Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a while to update. My school's break is over, so I'm back at work. Updates will come more slowly because my priority is teaching my students and that usually leaves me with zero energy at the end of the day.
> 
> Just warning now, there is going to be blatant 1940s racism in this chapter. The language is purposefully put in to be offensive, but if it make anyone too uncomfortable feel free to skip ahead.

Seated in Cap’s tiny apartment was a war council, prepared for a fight. Clint was tucked into the couch, Natasha pressed up against his side. Sam was sprawled out in a worn armchair while Barnes (Bucky, a voice like Steve’s whispered from inside) paced like a caged animal through the living room.

It had taken longer than Clint expected for all of them to get there. He'd had to force his ways out of the tower, not wanting Jarvis to record their conversation. They’d left the self proclaimed science bros to continue looking at the time travel issue and escaped to Brooklyn.

And wow, Clint hadn’t expected to see most of the stuff in the apartment. He remembered it from the house in Virginia, the house Steve and Bucky (yeah, that felt better than Barnes or James) built and lived in together, and he'd thought it lost in time. A part of him hurt seeing it, but not seeing Steve bustling around or muttering about some obscure calculation. It was a good kind of hurt though. The ache of knowing Steve may be gone, but Bucky hadn't forgot about him.

“Alright man, you've got us here,” Sam broke the tense quiet, eyes still locked on Bucky’s form. It drew Clint’s eyes away from the mantle, where a framed picture of Steve was sitting in a place of prominence. “Want to tell us what you were babbling about back there?”

“Right. So. Time travel,” Clint sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, “It's been happening.”

“We’re aware Clint,” Natasha muttered.

“Right, well, what I didn't tell you is where I keep showing up.”

“You saw Steve,” Bucky said coolly, eyes locked on the picture, “In the 40s.”

“Yeah, the entire time I’ve been running into Steve,” Clint huffed out a breath, “Like, the locations vary, and I've been moving forward in time, but I always run into Steve.”

“Because of Project: Rebirth,” Natasha guessed, turning her attention to Bucky, “He was involved?”

Bucky’s smile was pained, “He made it possible. It wouldn't have succeeded without him.”

“Which, yeah, that's what I originally thought but it's not why Hydra is after Steve. But then I figured it out last time I ended up in the past,” Clint sighed at the expectant expressions from Nat and Sam. “So, Bucky just became Captain America…”

Bucky startled, turning around at that. His eyes were wide even as Sam muttered “Bucky?” a couple of times trying out the name. Natasha sent a look toward Bucky before refocusing her attention on Clint. She reached out, touching his wrist, “You watched him become Captain America?”

A slightly hysterical laugh left Clint. “I showed up after everything went down. Just appeared in a room where Steve was sitting, just covered in blood,” a low groan left him as he tiredly rubbed his eyes, “Nat, it looked like he'd been stabbed and then Bucky comes running into the room…”

“You were there?” Was Bucky’s surprised demand, a slight lingering growl from the thought of an alpha seeing his mate so vulnerable then.

“I hid in the air vent cause I didn't want to leave Steve alone,” Clint tucked his face into Nat’s shoulder so he didn't have to look at Bucky, “And then Bucky ran into the room and I just got.”

Because it was clear Steve was Bucky’s whole world. Even now, with Steve dead, he was still Bucky’s world. The picture, the reminder of everything from their past life together, was carefully preserved in this apartment.

“What did you get,” came Bucky’s broken voice.

“That the best way Hydra could get to Captain America is by killing his mate,” Clint huffed out, “I think they're going to use this to kill Steve to take you out Cap.”

“I’m aware,” Bucky smiled coldly, hand reaching out to gently trace the curve of picture Steve’s smile. “They managed it too.”

“What do you mean,” Clint demanded. He'd known Steve wasn't around anymore, but had figured it had been due to old age or something. He knew he could have looked online to see what happened to Steve but it had felt wrong. Almost like a sick invasion of privacy to see Steve’s life reduced to just words on a page. So he had stayed away.

“March 17th, 1944,” Bucky muttered eyes hazing over as he got lost in his memories. Clint was painfully aware that Bucky had refused to look away from the picture of Steve, “We were on a mission, trying to get Zola for the SSR. We managed to pull it off and I thought everything had been going too well. Then the bond broke.” A twisted parody of a smile appeared. “I thought I'd been shot for a while there. I don't remember much, just how much it hurt and I felt like I was dying. It took us another week to get back to the base apparently, but I can't remember. I only came to when Peggy told me that Hydra had killed Stevie.”

Clint squeezed his eyes shut at that, curling closer to Natasha. He'd always distantly been aware that Cap’s mate was dead, it had been in the SHIELD file. But the had never explained the full impact. The way a bright, smiling man could be ripped to shreds when his mate was torn from his side.

When the pain and nausea had gone down enough for him to handle it, Clint let himself come back to reality. It was nice, with Nat rubbing the back of his neck gently while Sam was standing next to Bucky, gently talking to the alpha and drawing him away from the mantle. Nice, but it would have been better if Steve was here.

“How’d they do it,” Natasha asked softly her eyes trained on Bucky. Bucky, who refused to look at her. “James, how did Hydra kill Steve.”

Sam glared at her, a growl building up in his throat. “Nat, leave him alone,” he snapped, “This is hard enough without pressuring him…”

“Well, it certainly isn't helping keep his mate alive,” she spat back causing Sam to puff up defensively.

And while a bitter argument looked like it was going to shape up, it left Clint staring blankly ahead. He kept seeing Steve, in shock and coated in blood when he shut his eyes. It was hell, and he didn't want to deal with this anymore.

“Bucky,” Clint’s rasp cut through the argument, “I need to know how Steve died.”

Sam’s glare refocused on him, “Now wait just a damn minute…”

“I can't save him if I don't know what to look out for,” Clint snarled. The sight of the normally cheerful alpha so angry, so hurt, stunned Sam and Natasha into silence. But Clint only had eyes for Bucky then.

Bucky, who was staring back at him with dead eyes.

“Look man, we know Hydra is sending someone after Steve. But they don't know I'm there too,” Clint leaned forward, desperation in every line of his body, “That means they won't be looking for me...and you know the time period and how Langley works so we can do this. We can save Steve.”

The fight just went out of Bucky. He slumped into the armchair, expression drained and so painfully tired even as he leaned into Sam’s comforting hand. “Ok,” Bucky whispered softly, “Ok Clint. If it will save Stevie, I'll tell you anything you need to know.”

It was deceptively simple what happened to Steve. Hydra had sent an agent into Langley with a bomb, as near as anyone had figured out. The agent had infiltrated Langley and hunted down Steve.

Steve had been cornered near the wind tunnel when he'd been coming back from a meeting over the phone on a secret project (“He was checking that the math worked for the Manhattan Project,” Bucky had admitted with a wry smile). The bomber had grabbed Steve from behind, screaming hail Hydra at the military police when they had responded, before blowing himself up and taking Steve with him.

No one knew what type of bomb had been used. Nothing had been left for them to check, not a trace of the bomber or Steve. Which made sense now, knowing the assassination was carried out by a time traveler.

So all Clint had to do was watch out, make sure that he was constantly watching whenever he went into the past. He had some time, Bucky promised, he was only in 43. But if he managed, then the entire thing would be prevented.

By midnight, they had a plan of attack. Bucky and Sam were going to the RAFT to check on the Hydra agent who had gone through with Clint. They were going to watch and see if the agent disappeared when Clint disappeared. Natasha was going to hang around with Clint and call it in when he disappeared next.

Which left them with the question about how to keep Clint near Steve in the past.

The answer came from Sam. A surprisingly simple solution he had thrown out when everyone had been getting more and more frustrated when their solutions hadn't worked.

“Man, just get a period MP uniform and glare at everyone,” Sam had snapped, “No one actually checks on them.”

“He’s right,” Bucky’s surprised voice had cut through the resulting silence. “No one really checked at Langley,” a wry smile crossed his face, “They were all too focused on the math.”

From there it had been simple. Bucky requested an old uniform and made sure it was accurate (photographic memory for the win!) and Clint had wandered around with it in a backpack until he disappeared. Did Tony give him shit for wandering around with a random purple backpack? Why yes. Yes he did.

Did Sam shut Stark down cause no one insulted his niece's backpack? Yep. That happened to.

So Clint was prepared the next time he was sucked through time. The landing was one of his better ones, no landing in dumpsters and dropping on Steve while he was sleeping (which had hurt a lot. Steve’s elbows were sharp and he was vicious). Instead Clint appeared back in Steve’s office in Langley, miraculously on his feet.

The mission was on.

“Right,” Clint muttered taking in the room. It was the same as always, except there was a cardboard box on the desk. Steve was standing there, deep shadows under his eyes and face too pale. Bloodshot eyes and limp hair completed the look, making the omega look like a mess.

“Clint,” Steve murmured blinking slowly.

“Aw, Steve, no,” Clint groaned, determinedly turning away, “You look like a sad puppy who I need to feed. And Nat says I can't take in any more strays…”

Normally that would get at least a snort out of Steve, but today it go nothing. Which was worrying, because Steve always responded when Clint said something. When he looked back over his shoulder, Steve was focused back on his desk. He was pulling papers out of the desk, along with an abacus and a few pictures before putting them in the box. “What’s with the whole…”

“I’ve been reassigned,” Steve rasped out, tears swimming in his eyes, “Since...since Dr. Erskine is dead, they want me to go to a new assignment and work there.” An angry sob left him, rage and pain and fear all in one and Clint was powerless to keep himself from wrapping a comforting arms around thin shoulders.

“I hate this, I fucking hate it,” Steve turned his face into Clint’s chest, a furious wail leaving him, “Erskine’s dead, and Bucky’s not here anymore, and they’re sending me to go work for Howard! Howard Stark! Do you know what that man did when we first met?”

“Um, no but it doesn't sound good?” Clint questioned helplessly.

“He called my doll then slapped my ass,” Steve continued on, not caring of the weird choking sound leaving Clint at that mental image, “I can't work for him Clint. I'm probably going to kill him before the end of the week!”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with him?” Clint was not entirely sure of what to actually say to that, “And I'm sorry Bucky’s gone.”

Steve sniffed aggressively. “They won't tell me where Bucky is, just that he's working for some senator for the war effort,” Steve’s voice was small, “I'm not allowed to write him, I can't call, and they took my name away.”

“I don't think they can take your name,” Clint muttered, squeezing tighter, “You're still Steve…”

“Steve Rogers,” he hissed, “Not Steve Barnes, or Mrs. Barnes, or Bucky’s wife. They just erased our entire marriage cause Philips is concerned this Hydra group will target me cause of Buck, which is ridiculous!”

“It's really not,” Clint muttered.

“I'm just a computer from Brooklyn,” Steve deflated, “There's nothing special about me…”

“Hey, you know that not true. I know that’s not true, and if Bucky were here he would fight you for saying that,” Clint gently jostled his friend, “I know you're hurting right now and everything sucks, but you need to keep going Steve. You’re...you are going to change the world and you can't if you give up. I mean, you were the first ome….”

“Stop,” Steve ordered, slapping a hand over Clint’s mouth and managing to poke the poor alpha in the eye getting a pained shriek, “Don't tell me about the future!”

“What? Why not?”

“I read Bucky’s stupid science fiction crap, and anytime you tell someone about the future the universe ends,” Steve’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he leveled a threatening finger at Clint’s nose, “Do not end the universe. I'm rather fond of it.”

“Alright, alright, no stories from the future to keep the angry omega from killing me,” Clint grumbled. He sighed, exhausted from this whole day before gesturing at the box. “Want me to carry that for you?”

Steve fixed him with a dull look, “You can't walk around Langley.”

“Oh Mrs. Barnes, I can and I will. I came with a plan!”

Five minutes later, Steve went careening out the door with a bright laugh as a red faced Clint, dressed in the MP uniform, followed carrying the box. He was determinedly not watching Steve snicker as they wove through the maze of Langley.

“Look, all I'm saying is that you should have turned around while I was changing,” Clint grumbled.

“And I keep telling ya, I’ve already seen what you have to offer. Nothing shocks me,” Steve looked smug, “I’ve married for five years and have a very healthy sex life when Bucky’s here…”

“Don't tell me that, I have to work with Barnes and now I'm never going to get that image out of my head,” Clint whined while Steve continued to snicker at him. They traded barbs back and forth on the walk, gently teasing each other even as they got some strange looks from the other workers.

But there were a few looks that made Clint take pause. The looks were kind, and relieved to see Steve laughing again. They were mostly secretaries, janitors, and cleaning staff who looked like that instead of the office workers. “Haven't heard him laugh in a while,” one janitor muttered, “It's good to see.”

And it was good to see. Clint had been nervous that Steve would be an even bigger mess. That losing Erskine and Bucky in the same day would break him, but the guy refused to break down. There was pure determination in the way that he carried himself. Even in the face of tragedy and one of the worst wars in history, Steve refused to bend or break.

It took longer than Clint expected for them to get the right wing. They'd been marching purposefully for a solid half hour at that point, and Clint was so ridiculously thankful he was carrying the box because Steve’s breath was starting to wheeze.

“You alright,” Clint murmured.

Steve nodded, sucking air into his lungs even as he straightened up. Stepping through the doorway, his entire posture changed. The relaxation fled, sharp lines and laser focus taking its place. He seemed to grow a foot in height as he marched through a doorway into an open lab space and Clint was just pulled along in his wake.

There was chaos in the room. Howard Stark was standing in the middle, yelling at the top of his lungs at hapless engineers who were running frantically around. A massive chalkboard was propped up in a corner covered in bizarre symbols and math which made no sense. It looked insane, leaving Clint feeling overwhelmed by the whole thing.

And Steve’s shudder of revulsion showed that he was feeling the same thing.

That movement, the slight change on organized chaos caught Stark’s attention. The man turned with a bright smile, one that Tony had clearly inherited, and flung his arms out in welcome nearly smacking a worker in the face. “Steve,” he cried, crossing the chaos to stand proudly before them, “Glad to have you here. Just put your stuff down at your desk.”

Steve looked around the place. “Can't see any desks here Howard,” he wheezed out.

Stark’s face went gentle for a brief second. “You got you asthma cigs,” he murmured.

“Don't need the damn cigarettes, I need a functioning office,” Steve snapped back. Clint just blinked slowly, still caught in the idea of asthma cigarettes because just what? He knew the 40s was backwards, but this was pushing it.

“You don't need an office, this desk is perfect…”

“It's smoking and there are burn marks.”

“So an experiment went a little wild, can't blame a guy for being an inventor!”

“Like fuck I won't blame you! I'm not staying in your death trap office from hell!”

The sound of a door cracking against metal shut the banter down. Clint would forever deny that he jumped, that he had been so sucked into the argument that he hadn't noticed someone approaching the room until it was too late. If it had been Hydra, Steve would already be dead (which he was never going to admit to Bucky).

Luckily for Clint, the person stomping into the room was one of the good guys though you wouldn't be able to tell from the furious scowl in his face. Colonel Philips, in all of his glory, looked around the room with a heavy air of continued disappointment.

“I'm not sure what I expected when I agreed to send Rogers to you,” Philips voice boomed through the room even as Clint frowned, trying to figure out who the hell Rogers was. It took him too long to realize it was Steve. “But I expected there to be actual order.”

“In Steve’s defense, he’s been here less than a day,” a cool crisp voice cut through the air. Clint gaped a little as Peggy Carter stepped into the room, flanked by an unassuming man in a military uniform. She gave Stark a dismissive look before sending a smile to Steve, “I have no doubt that given another hour Steve will have this place up and running smoothly.”

“Until Howard ruins it,” was the petulant grumble that surprised a grin out of Clint.

And apparently the slight upturn of a mouth was enough to get Philips attention. “And who the hell is this,” he roared turning to Rogers, “You know the rules, no one without clearance allowed in this lab!”

“He’s just carrying my box cause he’s a gentleman,” Steve responded, “Unlike Howard who would leave me to suffer.”

“The man still doesn't have clearance!”

“But he kept me from collapsing and dying in the hall,” Steve crossed his arms, uncaring of the mass of people watching in horrified fascination as this tiny little omega faced off against a colonel of all things, “And you've got a rule against that kind of thing so I figured I should follow it.”

Philips glared, “There’s also a rule about being a smart ass but that hasn't stopped you yet Rogers and probably never will.”

Steve huffed and leaned forward to respond (it was a game, Clint realized. A weird game the two were playing of trying to up the other) when the military man near Carter made a terrible face that caught Steve’s attention. Blue eyes narrowed dangerously as Howard groaned in exasperation. “You have a problem there,” Steve growled and damn, he was way more intimidating the he should be. He honestly looked like he was going to attack that guy.

That same guy who was stupid enough to puff up in righteous indignation and step forward, eyes narrowed and snarling, “Actually I do. Rogers.”

Steve snarled right back and all conversation stopped. The mathematicians and engineers looked nervous, shooting glances between Stark and Philips who both looked done with the whole situation already. Carter’s eyes had narrowed as well as she was slowly sliding around to stand besides Steve in solidarity.

“You should apologize to Colonel Philips,” the man spat, a thick Southern accent cutting through his words. Watery brown eyes narrowed dangerously as he looked over Steve and Clint quickly stepped up to back his friend. A sneer curled his mouth, “Your kind should know better than to speak like that to your elders.”

Steve froze.

There was really no other word to describe it. Every muscle froze as he stared at the man, even his breath stopped for a minute. It wasn't a freeze coming from fear. It was the deep freeze that a sniper had before pulling the trigger, the freeze of a boxer before taking the first swing. It was all power tightly contained and ready to be released.

“My kind,” was the deceptively soft question.

In an instinctual response to the malice and threat in the gentle words, all the civilians took a step back and away from Steve. Looks of fear crossed their faces, a well known expression in Langley. They had survived the explosion of Steve Rogers before, had seen the chaos unfold and the rage unleash, and did not want to be caught in the crossfire.

“What do you mean,” Steve stepped forward, muscles coiling, “By my kind?”

“You know what I mean Irish,” the man spat, “A white nigger should know his place, especially a bitch like you!”

Steve snarled, lunging forward in an explosion of violence. It was only Carter’s quick reflexes grabbing the back of his collar that saved the man’s nose from being torn off. The man helped, stumbling back wide eyed from the snarling omega.

“Know my place? You want me to go back to my fucking place?” Steve practically roared, an amazing feat from someone with such frail lungs, “Well fuck you.” And with that he grabbed Clint and physically dragged him out of the room, shoulder checking the stunned man into the door.

Steve, spitting mad, stomped down the hallway. His white knuckled grip kept dragging Clint forward, down the hallway with furious determination. The sound of heels on tile had Clint looking backwards.

Carter was rushing to catch up, a worried purse to her lips as she easily caught up to Steve and Clint. “Steven,” she demanded, “What on earth are you doing?”

“You heard him Peggy. Wanted this white nigger back in his place,” Steve spat practically ripping a door off its hinges and marched outside. “So I'm headed there.”

“Headed where,” was her exasperated cry and Clint was wondering the same thing.

“West Computing,” Steve growled uncaring that Peggy stumbled to a halt.

She recovers quickly though, rushing to catch back up with them. “Steve, that's a segregated section,” she hissed.

“Oh, I know,” Steve spat, “But honestly, there's no bigger fuck you to that asshole than a fragile white omega working with all black computers!”

Carter sighed, a heavy out upon sound that clearly signaled her giving up in the face of Steve's stubbornness before turning on her heel and walking back the way she came leaving Clint and Steve to pick their way across the complex. Steve continued to stalk, sending workers diving out of the way with comical expressions of fear on their face. Clint just followed along as a silent protective shadow.

“So,” Clint murmured softly which make Steve’s hackles rise, “Want to explain what just happened back there?”

“You saw what happened,” Steve hissed leading Clint to let out an exhausted sigh.

“I saw some jackass spewing shit and you giving it right back,” Clint gently bumped his shoulder against Steve’s, “Other than that, I’m blanking.”

“You heard him. I'm Irish,” Steve spat out the word like it was a curse, “I'm inferior to everyone else. Not fit to be in polite company, especially someone who is clearly from a superior race like that man!”

“You're talking about eugenics,” Clint breathed out.

Coming to a halt, every muscle trembling with barely repressed rage, Steve turned to glare at Clint. His blue eyes were dry, his mouth a thin line that highlighted how furious he actually was. “All my life, I've been told how inferior I am,” Steve’s lips peeled back in an ugly sneer, “They told my mother it would be a kindness if I died young so I wouldn't be a burden. They told me I was incapable of advanced thought because I'm an omega. They told Bucky it would be better to have me sterilized so I would pass on my faulty genetics to future pups.”

“Jesus Steve..”

“Most jobs wouldn't take me for being an omega. The ones that would didn't want Irish to apply,” he turned away from Clint, continuing to walk, “The only places that wanted me were the whorehouses and the speakeasies and Bucky would have raised hell if I even hinted at considering those places. So I fought and bled to get to college and did well, enough to get a masters, and found myself a job that pays and doesn't care that I'm Irish or an omega. Except when it does.”

He took in a heavy breath, rattling his lungs from the exertion. “And everyday I remember that there are others here who have it worse than me. Women and men who face discrimination every day and can't a say a thing against it to make sure they stay safe. So I'm going there.”

There was a tilt to Steve’s jaw, a slight tightening that normally wasn't there that started to give it away. It had been present that night at the dumpster when he'd confronted Clint, had shown through when Steve had argued with Bucky. It was a sign that Steve had a battle plan and he was carrying it through.

The realization broke across Clint like a wave, “You planned this whole thing.”

“I planned to end up in West Computing eventually,” Steve admitted, “I didn't plan on going there today or this dramatically. Mostly I was just going to throw myself in Howard’s direction until he set me on fire and then demand to be moved as far away from him as possible. And the furthest place just happened to be there.”

“Your entire plan involved you being set on fire,” Clint sighed, “And they call me the human disaster. Really Steve?”

“I didn't say it was a good plan, just that I had one,” Steve said proudly, opening a door to a new building proudly and leading Clint in. “You can't tell Bucky about this.”

“Which part,” Clint questioned as Steve led him down a staircase, “The asshole being a racist prick? Or you planning on getting set on fire?”

“I'd prefer he not know about either of them, thanks,” Steve said smartly before breezing into a room that had a large sign stating “Colored Computers Only” with Clint caught in his wake.

The room came to an absolute halt when they entered the room. All the women, and it was full of women, stared at them who wide eyes. Clint was painfully aware that he was the only alpha standing in the room.

“Excuse me sir,” one of the women said, “Are you in the wrong place?”

“No, I am not,” Steve sent her a smile, “And call me Steve ma’am, I’m not a sir.”

A collective look of absolute confusion spread throughout the room at that. If it hadn't been so painful to watch, it might have been funny. Steve though continued to smile even as he directed Clint over to an empty place at a long table, facing a confused looking beta woman.

“Is this seat taken,” Steve asked her kindly.

“No, go right ahead,” she murmured looking bemused as Steve order Clint to drop the box and get out of the room to give him his space. It took a couple of minutes but eventually Steve wrestled the box free from Clint’s hands before shooing him towards the door.

“Dorothy Vaughn. Looks like I'm going to be your new neighbor,” the woman’s warm voice was the last thing Clint heard as he shut the door and found himself standing back in the 21st century.

Blinking quickly to readjust to the future, Clint sunk in the sofa behind him with a low groan. Distantly he could hear Natasha speaking with someone frantically on the phone before she rushed into the room.

“James just called,” she announced, not flinching at Clint’s reappearance in the present, “He’s confirmed it. The Hydra agent disappeared at the same time as you, reappeared at the same time. Looks like our theory was right. They’re targeting Steve.”

It took everything in him not to laugh hysterically. “They’re working way too hard,” Clint gasped out, “They could just leave Steve alone and he'd get himself killed.”

Because Steve Rogers had planned on burning himself alive to fight racism. Had just literally thrown himself in a segregated state into the civil rights fight without hesitation or even spending a minute thinking about the consequences. He was going to fight racism and injustice with every breath in an already frail body and would only stop when he finally died.

And Clint was supposed to keep him alive. It was going to be the hardest job he'd ever had. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The racism towards the Irish is historically accurate,malign with the segregation of black Americans in the South. 
> 
> Eugenics were also mentioned in the chapter, and they were very prevelant in the US in the 1940s. Before the start of WWII, there were actually a few members of Congress looking at passing several laws based on the Nuremberg Laws (Nazi eugenics) in the states. 
> 
> Cause this was a heavy chapter, the next one will be fluffy. Just cause I need a break and need to write something silly.


	8. Steve Rogers: Star Spangled Man with a Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The USO is coming to Langley, and Steve's heard great things about the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on my favorite part of Captain America: the a First Avenger. Specifically, that great scene of Steve getting through the USO and looking so done with everything.
> 
> I figured the only thing that could top that is Bucky, the smooth talking alpha male, doing that while Steve just sits and watches the whole mess. And of course Clint needs to be here, can't let him not witness this majesty.

The six months Steve had been working with the West Computing group were some of the best in his life. Sure, it wasn't the best of all time because Bucky wasn't there, but it was still good. Every day he came into work and was actually excited to show up. A small smile was permanently there, and Steve was typically the first one in and one of the last to leave. He was still in high demand by high profile government projects to take on cases to the point where Steve had started pushing some off on the others girls and was working to get the noticed, and was making plenty of money so he didn't have to worry about losing the house or going hungry.

But it wasn't the math that made these six months great. The math was actually the worst part, if Steve could do the job without math he would in a heartbeat.

No, the best part of the job was how uncomfortable it made everyone else around him.

He cackled a little inside every time someone’s eyes widened when he told them where he worked in Langley. He'd been able to unleash a bent up tirade on a man who sincerely wanted to know if Steve was safe with “those people,” screaming about how there was nothing different between him and them so fuck off. He'd gotten into seven fist fights with racist assholes at work, twelve when shopping for groceries, and had been arrested six times.

Steve was also starting to amass a collection of colored only and whites only sounds from around Langley. Most were small and easy to remove and Steve kept those in a cardboard box under his desk. There was one larger sign he had ripped off the wall that he proudly took home before attempting to light it on fire (didn't work, but there was a nice char) and he actually getting away with it.

Philips had gone back to Europe to win the war, and the guy in charge of Langley was that racist asshole who called Steve a bitch. So Steve had been working hard on making his life miserable. Howard sets something on fire? Drop the charred remains in the guys office. He wants a typed explanation of Steve’s actions? No problem. Here's a fifty page document detailing every ten minutes of the day. He wanted updates on Steve’s work? Be prepared for a phone call every five minutes asshole, Steve could multitask.

So yeah, it had been a good time.

And it was going to become perfect that night. Howard had been by, explaining that Bucky would be coming through town with a USO tour for the war effort.

(“He’s doing alright,” Howard had explained, gagging a little as Steve spitefully pushed stew on him, “Wants to call you or send letters but he's not allowed to.”

“Just like you didn't tell me where he was for the past six months,” Steve smiled, murder flashing in his eyes even as he served more stew into Howard’s bowl, ignoring the protests from the man about classified information and how sorry he is, please Steve don't give me any more of this it is truly vile!)

And Steve was going out to see his Bucky and check for himself that he was safe. And because it had been so long, Steve was going to dress up for his husband. He dug out his best outfit, something he had been saving for the end of the war when Bucky inevitably took him dancing, a pretty pastel purple number and heels. He didn't have nylons (never had owned a pair) but still took the time to use a pen to draw the line down the back of his leg for the look.

Grabbing his hat, a bag, and a coat completed the look. Steve looked softer, younger as well. The dress was similar to the one he had worn on his wedding day which was why Steve liked it. And Bucky liked twirling him around in the dress, smiling at how the skirt flared and clung to Steve’s legs.

Oh yes, Bucky would appreciate Steve in this outfit tonight. He'd get all doe eyed and soft, Steve mused clacking his way across Hampton’s streets towards the theater, start sweet talking and call Steve doll before taking him to bed…

A hard lurching feeling ripped Steve from his musings. His heel had caught on a crack in the sidewalk, sending him tumbling towards the group for a nasty fall. Or that would have happened if a strong hand hadn’t caught Steve’s arm to pull him up.

“Careful there,” Clint teased, smiling warmly as he steadied Steve on the cement, “Don't want to see a smear on the sidewalk.”

Steve scoffed. “Please. I would take that sidewalk down. It wouldn't stand a chance.” Still, Steve grasped onto Clint’s arm and used it to steady himself as he dragged the alpha down the street.

“Yeah, you're real stable there Steve. I can tell by the way you're starting to tip over,” Clint chuckled, gladly offering himself as a stabilizing post for Steve. “You're dressed up nice. Special occasion?”

“USO tour is coming in tonight,” Steve explained absently speeding up as he saw the theater come into view, “We’re going to watch the show, then you're going back to the future and leaving me alone for the night.”

“Aw, Steve, no,” Clint whined, “You don’t love me anymore?”

“Oh I do, but I love Bucky more and we’re meeting after the show,” Steve leered up at Clint, delighting at the horrified look crossing his face, “And you’ve told me you don't want to hear about how great Buck is in bed…”

“Yeah, nope. Stop taking,” Clint ordered, “A show then I skedaddle so you can have happy adult time with your husband. Time I never want to hear about.”

“You sure? We can get pretty creative…”

“I will throw you into traffic so a car kills you. Seriously. Stop talking.”

“Is everyone from the future so repressed?” Steve questioned, laughing at Clint’s horrified spluttering before turning to the ticket counter. “Hello, yes, I'd like two tickets for the show please.”

“Sure thing, hun,” tickets slid across the counter as Steve dug into his bag and handed over the money, “You and your mate here to support the troops?”

Steve’s nose wrinkled at the thought of being mated to Clint. “Oh, ew. No. He is not my mate.”

“I'm his cousin, visiting from Iowa,” Clint jumped in even as he began to gently herd Steve away from the counter with a strained smile, “Thank you though, have a great night.”

And then Steve was being dragged into the lobby, forced to turn and meet Clint’s offended face. “Someone asks you if we’re mated,” Clint demanded, “And you say ew? Really Steve?”

“What? It's true,” Steve snorted, reaching up to gently pat Clin’t cheek in the most patronizing manner he could manage, “You’re a walking disaster, the thought of mating to that is terrifying.”

“Oh please. Not all of us can look like Bucky, whose a walking god. By the way, where are we sitting?”

“Back row, it’ll be less crowded. And it's not Bucky’s looks that make him so attractive. It's the fact that he's a competent adult,” Steve slid gratefully into his seat, sighing in relief as he kicked his shoes off, “I've never had to pull him out of a dumpster.”

“You did not pull me out of a dumpster. I pulled myself out,” Clint pouted as he slid into the seat next to Steve, “You don't give me enough credit.”

“Stop being a disaster and I'll be nicer.”

“Such an asshole,” Clint stretched out, arms spreading across the backs of the seats, “What’s this show even about?”

“Some some and dance telling us to do our part and buy war bonds to stop Hitler,” Steve rolled his eyes, “It’s going to be tacky and over the top. I mean, look at the decorations. It looks like an American flag threw up in here.”

Clint squinted at the stage, “It’s not so bad. I've seen worse decorations. Like there was this one show we did at the circus that involved buckets of glitter…”

“Wait,” Steve turned and just stared at Clint, “You worked in the circus?”

“Dude, I was a full on carnie. The Amazing Hawkeye, best shot in the world,” grinning he nudged Steve’s arm, “Sounds awesome right?”

Steve snorted. “Sounds like a miracle you made it to forty over there.”

“What? I'm not even thirty five!” Growling in annoyance, Clint turned back to the stage.

“Aw, it's ok,” Steve teased brightly, “It's probably the circus that made your face look so old. You know, Buck had to go to training in Jersey. He aged fifty years there.”

“From the serum?”

“No. From Jersey. Cause it's an abomination.”

That got an amused smile from Clint, “You know sometimes I forget you originally came from New York until you say stuff like that. Can take the kid out of Brooklyn, but not to the Brooklyn from the kid.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the band starting up. Lights dimmed as the brassy instruments cut through the air. There was polite applause as the curtains opened and women wearing bright red, white, and blue came high stepping onto the stage singing about some kind of man with a plan.

It was everything Steve had expected. Tacky, over the top, and stupidly patriotic. Or at least it was until the man with the plan came stepping into stage with a wide, staged grin holding a prop shield like it would save him from this show. He was wearing one of the most hideous outfits Steve had ever seen in his life. Tacky blue fabric, red boots, and ridiculous wings on a hat completed the whole thing making Steve snort and Clint groan.

Then, Captain America, the man with the plan, started to speak and Steve lost it.

“Oh my god,” he whispered reaching out and gripping Clint’s forearm in horrified delight, “Clint! Clint that’s Bucky!”

Clint dissolved into helpless snorts. “What is he wearing? Man, he gave me shit for my uniform being purple and he wore this?”

“Did he just wink at that dancer?” Steve officially lost it, bending over to laugh hysterically into his lap because this was so bad, it was like watching a train wreck. Bucky was spewing off ridiculous lines about war bonds that rhymed with each other while the dancers sang around him.

And it just kept getting better.

Like when Bucky asked for a volunteer and got Mrs. Jenkins from down the street, one of the fish ladies who sold her husband’s catches. Mrs. Jenkins who was nearing sixty, and apparently was handsy seeing how she grabbed Bucky’s ass on stage. Clint giggled at the squeak that left Buck.

And then one of the dancers, the red head, and Bucky both spoke incredibly earnestly about planting victory gardens for a solid ten minutes. On how you had to plant the carrots especially deep to give them enough space to grow. Or the correct way to feel a tomato to see if it was ripe. Then Bucky started talking about the proper way to hoe a garden because he was an expert on the topic.It was the most innuendo ridden talk Steve had ever heard and it was obvious that Bucky and the poor dame also knew because they were obviously so done.

But the absolute best part was when a fake Adolf Hitler came creeping on stage with a tiny gun while Bucky talked to the audience. When Hitler jumped out from behind the dancing girls and Bucky turned to throw a fake punch that sent Hitler sprawling. Steve fell against Clint, laughing so hard he nearly triggered an asthma attack.

The entire show was the best thing Steve had ever seen in his life. Especially the part where Bucky held a bunch of women on a motorcycle over his head. The writing was stupid, the words cheesy, and the whole thing was so ridiculous it bordered on the absurd. But what really made the whole show was the long suffering expression clearly showing on Bucky’s face.

When the curtain closed, Steve and Clint were on their feet with standing ovations. Sure, they were laughing hard enough to cry, but they were also the ones applauding the loudest.

“Greatest day of my life,” Clint wheezed out while Steve struggled to get his heels back on, “Oh god, Cap’s face with the tomato thing…”

“Or when he had to fight Hitler,” Steve giggled, wobbling on his feet.

“Hitler may have been good, but those girls dancing waving sparklers around was better.”

“While funny, Hitler was still the best part of this whole show,” Steve declared as he started to pick his way across the theater to the backstage entrance. “Think about it. Hitler was the only one who didn't sing. Or dance. Or rhyme at us.”

“Well, when you put it like that, Hitler was the best part,” Clint grinned, “But the resting scrap metal song…”

“That was great as well.” It was a struggle to get the laughter under control, but Steve managed to by the time he reached the backstage door. He waved goodbye to Clint, who was helplessly laughing against a chair before facing the man blocking the entrance. “I'm Steve Rogers, Howard Stark said he warned you guys I was coming?”

The man nodded, stony expression not changing as he gestured Steve into the back. And Steve got it, he really did. If he'd been forced to guard this farce of a show, he'd look that stoic as well.

Backstage was even better that Steve could have guessed. Red, white, and b,ur props were everywhere and American flags were spilling out of a chest and taking over the floor. The dancers were spread out, changing into more normal clothes as they chatted about their plans for the night, uncaring of Steve picking his way through the throngs.

And Steve only had eyes for his Bucky. Standing on the opposite end of the theater (the jerk) and arguing with some guy in a suit while he changed into street clothes. He was the most handsome man Steve had ever seen, even if those awful red boots were still on.

“Look, I'm telling you I'm not going to a hotel here,” Bucky was snarling as Steve slowly crept up on him, “I’ve got a place to stay.”

“Senator Brandt was very firm that you stay with the troop Captain.”

“I'm a Sergeant, and I don't care how firm he was, I live in Hampton so I'm going home!”

“Excuse me, Captain America?” Steve cut into the conversation, turning his voice sugary sweet. He grinned when Bucky froze, shoulders creeping up in embarrassment at the sound of Steve seeing him, “I had a question for you?”

The suited man frowned, “Excuse me sweetheart, but you can't be back here.”

Steve, purposefully, ignored that because he could not let this moment pass. “I need your help,” Steve snorted, “To make sure my gardens deep enough for my carrots.”

“Oh my god, stop. Steve, no,” Bucky moaned in agony. He reluctantly turned around when Steve tugged on his arm, glaring at the laughing omega. “Steve, this is not funny.”

“It's hilarious is what it is,” Steve snorted before standing on his toes to press a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, “This show is the highlight of my life. I can die happy now, after seeing you get groped on stage in front of all my coworkers.”

“I hate you so much,” Bucky murmured fondly, combing a hand through Steve’s hair, “I don't even know why I missed you doll.”

“Cause you love my cooking.”

“Feed me your cooking again, and we're getting a divorce,” Bucky leaned down pressing an adoring kiss to the smiling mouth. Steve beamed back, tucking himself into Bucky’s side as his alpha turned to glare at the gaping man. “Look, Mike, I'm going home with my wife here tonight. I'll be back tomorrow, but no ones stopping me. Come on Stevie. Let's get you home.”

And Steve, who would normally argue against that, just melted. He'd missed his stupid alpha so much. Missed how Bucky would gently lead him around with a warm arm around his waist. Or how he smelled, cause the sheets had lost Bucky’s scent five months ago.

With a happy whine Steve rested his head on a strong shoulder. “I'm so glad you're home,” he whispered as Bucky led him into the night air, “I was so worried, but no one could tell me anything…”

“I know doll, I tried to contact you as well but they kept sending my letters back to me,” Bucky pressed a loving kiss to golden hair, “I was going to surprise you tonight. Show up at our door with flowers and chocolate. How did you even hear about this?”

“Howard told me.”

“Of course he did,” Bucky sighed dramatically, “You look gorgeous tonight love.”

“Had to look good for my best guy,” Steve murmured. He just wanted to crawl into Bucky’s skin and stay there forever, “My husband deserves the best you know.”

“He's already got it,” Bucky rumbled, a possessive growl rippling through his voice. He leaned down, sweeping Steve into his arms despite the surprised shriek. Growling he kissed his sweet Stevie breathless, delighting in the breathy gasps as he stalked to their house, “I'm not letting you go tonight doll. Going to keep you right here with me.”

“Don't need to keep me anywhere,” Steve murmured back. “I'll follow you anywhere. Its till the end of the line for me.”

“Right back at ya Stevie. Love you so much.”

“Love you too, alpha.” Steve smiled and cuddled in close to that broad chest. He tucked his good ear against it, listening to Bucky’s heartbeat.

Tomorrow, when the sun was lighting up their bedroom and Steve was curled against warm flesh, he'd give Bucky shit for this whole Captain America thing. He'd tease his husband until the alpha cracked, dragging a laughing Steve under him and shutting Steve up in with teasing growls and kisses. They’d have fun and laugh, delighting in each other and just being happy.

But that was tomorrow. Tonight Steve would cling and let Bucky dote, settling their bond back into place. Tonight was for them to reacquaint themselves with each other, to murmur this wedding vow between kisses and just be young and stupid and in love.

Cause soon Bucky would go away again, so Steve was determined to make the best of what time he had.

(After appearing back in the future, Clint ended up laughing so hard about the whole show that he ended up falling over and braining himself on the coffee table.

The next day Clint managed to get over to the Avengers Tower for team training. He sat, patiently in wait because he was a sniper, the best in the world, until Cap asked who wanted to go first to spar.

Without missing a beat, Clint raised his hand and cheerfully announced, “You know Cap, I'd just love to help you punch old Adolf on the jaw.”

Bucky’s expression of horror sent Clint into hysterics. Leaning heavily against Natasha’s shoulder, he gasped out, “Hey, want to help us set up a victory garden next? I've heard your the authority on hoeing the soil.”

It was so worth getting his ass kicked by Cap.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve not being able to contact each other-this is happening because the SSR doesn't want Steve to know about the whole Captain America thing. Now that Steve knows, the boys will be able to write letters (which will still be censored but progress).
> 
> Steve's dress is based around the gender identity I created for this timeline. In the 40s in this story, omegas are seen as being feminine. So it is normal for them to wear dresses and skirts and high heels. Steve is actually breaking that norm by running around in pants. But after speaking with my grandma (grew up in WWII in LA) she explained that you always had one good outfit for formal events, so that's Steve's dress.
> 
> Drawing the line for nylons also happened back then. I figure Steve wouldn't own stockings so this would be the solution. You needed stockings to be proper. Typically women used eyeliner or makeup for the lines. But Steve doesn't have that, so he uses art supplies when he draws them in.


	9. Steve and Clint: The Long Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Smothsonian is hosting a new exhibit on Captain America. Clint, who does not want to go, is not impressed by the fact that Steve Rogers is never mentioned in the exhibit.
> 
> Today could not get any worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while since the last post. It's been a tough week at school. The kids are upset and planning walk outs, so as a teacher I'm working on encouraging them without telling them to do anything. The joy of not being able to give your own opinion at work.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is much heavier than the others. The story is going to be getting darker from this point on.

The Smithsonian Institute was holding a special exhibit on the Howling Commandos and Captain America. Each member of Cap’s old team was highlighted and given special attention. The big draw was the massive exhibit on Peggy Carter, one of the best of its kind and already receiving high praises. All in all, it was a beautiful exhibit and numerous people were honored to be invited. 

Everyone except for Clint that was.

He would have been quite happy to stay home, lounging around in his boxers while watching Dog Cops but he'd been forced to attend this event by Pepper. She'd threatened unspeakable horrors on him that had sent Clint sulking into the venue dressed in a suit that cost more than he'd ever make in his life. 

While the rest of the Avengers (except for Bruce who was permanently excused from these things and Thor who was on Asgard) worked the room with painted on smiles and smooth words, Clint had planted a scowl on his face and stubbornly tucked himself into a corner to watch the proceedings with suspicious eyes. 

Sure, the exhibit was nice but it was incomplete and it drove Clint insane. The majority of it was still focused primarily on Bucky’s life but it was missing something important. Mainly, any mention of Steve Rogers. 

The exhibit on Bucky mentioned he was married, but that was it. It only had pictures of a young Bucky Barnes in Brooklyn and Langley, Steve’s frail fame was conspicuously absent from it. The one time he was mentioned was in reference to a Mrs. Barnes left behind in Langley, waiting patiently for Cap’s dashing return. It was enough to make Clint growl from the annoyance. 

The section of Project: Rebirth was even worse and made Clint see red. The entire display was taken up with images dedicated to Howard Stark and Abraham Erskine with the text detailing their genius. There was one picture of the entire support staff that was included in the image. Steve was present, Clint could see him, standing with his head held high next to Erskine. The caption merely stated that he was an assistant, not even bothering with Steve’s name. 

Steve, who had given his all to the project and bled to make it happen, had been erased from its history. It was sickening. 

And judging from Bucky’s slowly darkening expression as he looked over the part on Project: Rebirth, he had noticed this as well. A strange expression crossed his face as he stared at the small picture of Steve. Grief and furry warred on his handsome face. 

It made Clint want to throw up. Watching the absolute detestation on Bucky’s face as he slowly realized that even now his mate had been erased from his history and Clint just wanted to scream. 

So it really wasn't that surprising when Clint managed to sneak his way out of the exhibit and into the rest of the building. 

It was refreshing to leave the horde of other people behind. For the last couple of months, Clint had been constantly surrounded by people, whether it was the team keeping an eye on him or when he'd stumble into Steve’s wake. So to be able to wander throughout the empty halls and stare at the displays without anyone pressing against him was heaven on earth.

It was just Clint and the soft tread of his shoes on the floor. His breath in the silent wings and blank laminated eyes staring down at him. 

Eventually Bucky managed to wind his way into a section dedicated to different civil rights movement tucked away in a back corner. Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X stood guard over black and white photographs of Rosa Parks, Freedom Riders, and peaceful protests. Harvey Milk stood out proudly on the gay rights movement across the stern faces from the Korematsu Supreme Court case. 

Seeing the names and faces, especially after the disasters of the Captain America exhibit, soothed something deep inside Clint even if the tucked away location made him want to scream. And then he turned to leave and saw it.

Next to a large image of the Native American occupation of Alcatraz was a picture of Steve Rogers. He was staring off camera, a hint of a smile on his lips as he held a pencil in ink stained hands. He stood guard over the omega rights reaction, warm gaze directed to young adults protesting for their rights and justice. 

It was everything Clint had wanted to see. The realization was like thunder echoing through his veins drawing Clint closer until he could read the glossy letters detailing Steve’s incredible life. 

Like the fact that Steve was the first American male omega to get a masters degree, let alone being the first one employed by NASA. It highlighted his work on top military projects while also detailing how he'd been arrested and assaulted numerous times for opposing segregation in the south. It even mentioned Bucky, except he was recorded as Steve Roger’s husband and that brought a smile to Clint’s face. 

It was just...great to know there was something on Clint’s friend. A permanent part of an exhibit, stating boldly that Steve was the inspiration behind the movement and the inspiration to countless young omegas trying to create a career. 

“Would you look at that,” Clint murmured to the picture of Steve, “You changed the world Mrs. Barnes.” 

And Steve just continued to smile, somehow both hard and soft in that captured moment. 

Bucky would love this. He really would, Clint realized as he started to head back towards the exhibit. Maybe seeing how treasured his Stevie had become would remove that gutted expression from Cap’s face. Or that was what Clint was hoping for as he rushed back to the exhibit…

Only to smash into the rickety end table that had been placed in Steve and Bucky’s home in the Hamptons. Clint shrieked, hitting the ground as the table collapsed under his weight. “Aw table, no,” Clint groaned into the ground, “I thought Steve threw you out.”

Except, wait. Steve had said he would allow Clint to throw out the table because moving it could set off his asthma. So in fact that it was still there was Clint’s fault. Which sucked cause it meant there would be no sympathy from Steve on this issue. 

And now Clint was going to be responsible for throwing the remains of the table away. Because he already knew Steve would gripe and complain, arguing that since Clint broke it he was in charge of the cleanup. So Clint, who was justifiably terrified of Steve’s temper, would comply as quickly as he could. 

In fact, Steve should be in the room already. Staring down at Clint, looking unimpressed by his existence. But he wasn't and that was just not normal. Every other jump had dropped Clint in the same room as Steve, except for the first one which was more of a fluke. Meaning Steve was supposed to be in the room with his mocking laughter and judging eyes but wasn't. And that was worrying when you knew Hydra was out to kill him.

“Steve?” Clint called out, abandoning the table to go deeper into the house, “Steve. Where are you?”

Silence was the only response. There was no one in the kitchen, just a pot of stew simmering on a burner. No one was tending the back garden or looking over the wash. A heavy stillness had fallen over the house. 

Unnerved, Clint turned from the garden to head deeper into the house after making sure to grab a knife from the cutting block. Now comfortably armed, he crept deeper into the silent house doing a sweep of each room.

The guest room was empty, which wasn't a surprise. However, the bigger surprise was the empty master bedroom. Clint had assumed if Steve wasn't in any of the other rooms, he might be in here. Clint knew that Steve kept all of his letters from Bucky stored safely under the bed in a locked box, and had figured the omega would be reading them again with the stupid besotted smile on his face. 

But he wasn't there. Perhaps he was back at Langley? He'd been spending more and more time there, no wanting to face a silent house by himself. It had gotten worse now that Bucky was in active combat in Europe. The stress and worry had led Steve to throw himself deeper into the world of science and math without taking time to pause or breath. “It turns the worry off,” Steve had admitted, “Makes it so I can sleep while Buck’s in an active war zone.” 

So yeah, Steve was probably at Langley working on something to help Bucky. Clint should head over there to perform a quick check in there. If Steve wasn't in the lab, then Clint would start freaking out and hunting the stubborn kid down…

Wait. 

The bathroom door for the master bath was shut. And there was light pouring out from under it and the sound of someone moving around on tile.

Oh thank god, Clint let out a relieved huff, he'd found Steve. And he was moving. Quickly Clint moved over to the door, gently trying the door handle. His brow furrowed in confusion when he found it locked. Steve never locked doors inside, a habit built in from asthma attacks and his formative years being created in a cramped tenement room where he shared his bathroom with ten other people. So no, Steve never locked doors. 

Gently Clint rapped his knuckles on the wood. “Steve?” The sound of movement stopped. “Steve. You alright?.”

The sound of a harsh sob cut through the air, a heavy and oppressive noise. 

That...that was not a good sign. Steve never cried. Not when he faced down prejudiced assholes who spat in his face, or when his eyes burned from reading. “Steve, open the door.”

“No,” Steve wailed, a horrible sound of heartbreak and barely suppressed rage, “Just leave me alone.” 

Yeah, that wasn't happening. “Steve, seriously. Open the door,” Clint ordered, letting a hint of his alpha bled through into his command.

“No!” Clint jolted back, stunned as he felt the door shake. Had Steve just hit the door frame? 

“Just go away,” Steve sobbed, his voice broken, “Clint, just go away.”

“Look man, I know you're upset. And I know you wish I was Bucky…”

A broken laugh split the air. “I don't want Bucky either. I don't need him here to hold me hand, I can handle this because I am fine!”

“You sure don't sound fine,” Clint shot back, “And honestly, none of this is convincing me that you should be left alone.” Stubborn silence was the response. Clint sighed, “Dude, I'm your friend. I just want to make sure you’re okay. After that I'll let you deal with this by yourself if you want.”

A mournful sniffle was the response, and Clint squeezed his eyes shut. Man, he was probably going to have to break down the door. And then Bucky would find out, get all grumpy and make Clint suffer in training. Cause he was an asshole like that which make him perfect for Steve…

The clock of the lock opening broke Clint from his thoughts. He smoked forward, opening the door and stepping into the bathroom in search of finding Steve. A quick sweep revealed the blonde, and Clint’s heart stopped.

Steve was curled up against the side of the bathtub. He was crying bitterly into his knees, the thin bathrobe squeezed around his form. But even though seeing Steve cry was upsetting, it wasn't why Clint was slowly panicking.

The bathrobe was stained with blood. It was tacky, still wet, staining the cream material garish red. Steve’s hands were also coated in it, smears of red on his cheeks from where he no doubt brushed away tears with blood stained hands. 

“Fuck. Steve,” Clint dropped to his knees besides Steve. He reached out gently, tugging the omega out of his crouch, ignoring the weak protests, “Steve. Where are you hurt?” An agonized moan was his only response. “Damnit. Where’s the blood coming from? Steve? Answer me!”

“All my fault,” Steve whispered, turning and tucking himself into Clint’s arms. Clint, who didn't care that bloody handprints were staining his suit. “I lost it...Clit. I lost it…”

Lost it? What the fuck was he talking about. “Steve, whatever happening it is not your fault,” Clint whispered gently as his heart rate began to calm. There were no open wounds anywhere on Steve’s body. No injuries, so where was the blood coming from?

“Yes it is!” Steve screamed helplessly, frail fists smacking against Clint’s chest, “It's all my fault! My one chance and I lost it! How...how am I going to tell Bucky…”

“Don't worry about that right now. We need to get the blood off you. Man, what even happened?” Clint grumbled, gathering Steve into his arms and standing. He turned to the tub, planning on running a quick bath seeing how shower heads weren't available yet. But that plan was quickly thrown out the window when Clint actually stared at the tub.

The entire floor of the bathtub was coated in blood. Damp rags was laying uselessly in the stuff, nearly back from the blood soaking into them. 

Clint clutched Steve closer, starting to get an idea of what had happened here. 

“Hey,” Clint made sure to gentle his voice, trying to soothe the distraught omega who was still crying, “I'm going to ask you a question, and I need you to answer. You can nod or shake your head, you don't have to talk. I just need an answer. Ok?”

Weakly, Steve nodded even as he curled closer to Clint. 

“Ok. Alright. Steve, were you pregnant?”

For a moment Clint thought Steve wouldn't answer. Then, slowly, the blonde nodded hesitantly against Clint’s shoulder. 

Steve had been pregnant. And from his previous statements and absolute grief, he'd lost the pup. Well, Clint realized even as a helpless wave of grief washed over him, that certainly explained where the blood had come from. 

There was one thing Clint knew. He would not be cleaning Steve up in a bathroom where the bloody remains of his pregnancy were. 

Clint made sure his hold was gentle as he carried Steve out of the room. Briefly he thought about putting Steve on the bed, but then realized that would not be smart. He didn't need Steve associating his bed with this. 

Luckily the guest room was empty, and would be the perfect place to keep Steve comfortable and clean him up. Gently, Clint placed Steve down on the bed before running a fond hand through Steve’s hair. 

“Hey buddy,” Clint murmured gently, thumb brushing away a tear, “You with me?”

Steve nodded, miserable eyes staring back at him.

“I'm going to get something to clean you up, alright? We’re not leaving in bloody clothes,” Clint said softly, “Is there anything you want me to grab?”

“Nightstand, bottom drawer,” Steve whispered, “Bucky’s nightshirt…”

“Right, got it. Be right back,” Clint rushed back into the bathroom. He grabbed the towels not covered in blood before heading to the bedroom. Throwing the drawer open and pulling out the nightshirt, Clint sprinted back into the guest room where Steve was still sitting while staring blankly ahead. 

“Okay. Alright. We need to get you cleaned up,” Clint murmured. “You want me to leave? Or are you okay with me cleaning you up?”

Steve whined and every instinct in Clint stood at attention. A distressed omega was reaching out to him, and his alpha responded. 

“Alright, I'll stay,” Clint rumbled, his voice rough and deep, “Let’s get you taken care of.”

Cleaning Steve’s face and hands was easy enough. The blood wasn't completely dry so Clint was able to get it off without a struggle. Clint didn't hesitate then, but he did when that part of the job was done.

Most of the blood was on Steve’s legs, and pooling on the robe. The stain had spread onto Steve’s stomach, leaving him coated in blood. The only way Clint would be able to clean him up was if he removed the robe. Which would have leave Steve completely naked before him. 

Steve was the one who decided on Clint’s next course of action. Shaking fingers untied the bloody robe before drawing it off, leaving Steve staring blank eyed ahead and completely naked before Clint’s eyes. With a heavy sigh, Clint got back to cleaning the omega of the blood. 

If it had been any other scenario, Clint would have been mortified to be staring at Steve’s bare body. He would be blushing, advertise his eyes while making as much noise as he could to distract Steve from the situation. 

But this wasn't that scenario. There was nothing sexual about washing blood from Steve’s frail body, cleaning away the trades of what should have been a happy moment from a close friend’s form.

And it just kept getting worse as Steve continued to silently cry. 

“I hate this,” Steve whispered as Clint cleaned the blood from his thighs. An angry sob left Steve as he pressed white knuckles against his eyes, “I fucking hate this so much! I couldn’t even do this right!”

“It is not your fault…”

“Yes it is! If I was better, if my body was stronger, I'd still have my pup,” Steve spat out, “If I wasn't so sick all the time, I wouldn’t have killed Bucky’s pup!”

“Steve…”

“No, don't tell me it's alright. It's not alright. My pup is gone,” Steve whispered, voice dead and broken, “It's never going to be alright again.”

And Clint, really couldn't say anything to that. So he just bowed his head, finished cleaning Steve and got him gently tucked into Bucky’s nightshirt. Then, gently, Clint gathered the broken form close before carrying Steve back to the master bedroom. 

Steve remained unresponsive, letting Clint tuck him in. He just stared blankly at the ceiling, not caring that Clint had left the room to clean up the bathroom. Honestly, Steve was just thankful that he wouldn't have to clean up the evidence of his failure. He would never be able to explain to Clint how grateful he was for all of this. If Bucky wasn't here, Clint was the next best person to be present.

Oh god. Bucky. What was Steve going to tell him?

He knew Bucky wanted pups, had seen the gentle light in his eyes as Bucky watched pups run around them. Steve had tried for years to give him one, done everything he could to get pregnant. Even though Bucky had said he was happy with the way they were, happy with just his Stevie. 

It wasn't fair! Steve just wanted to give Bucky a pup, but his body betrayed him once again.

Broken, angry sobs left Steve as he curled into the pillows. He didn't care anymore. Didn't care about Clint sitting besides him, didn't care that the alpha was gently trying to comfort him with soft words and gentle touches. Steve didn't care about any of that. He just wanted to die, leave this awful life behind….

Strong hands ripped him from the bed covers, dragging Steve up to face Clint. The alpha’s face was dark, a furious expression on his face as he stared down the stunned, crying omega.

“Don't you ever say you want to die,” Clint snarled, tugging Steve closer to him. Just the thought of Steve dead, blue eyes unseeing made Clint’s blood go cold. “Dammit Steve. Do you have any idea how important you are?” 

Steve whined, head shaking in denial. 

“Well, I can safely say that you’re Bucky’s entire world. Even seventy years from now, you are all he thinks about. Love of the poor guy’s life,” Clint announced, “You’re one of my best friend’s and I can't imagine life with you done.” Except he could. In his nightmares, Clint could see it. 

“I'm just some kid from Brooklyn,” Steve whimpered.

“You are the first male omega to get a college degree. The face of the omega liberation movement, an icon that gender does not define you,” Clint gently shook him, trying to get Steve to listen, “So many people have you as their inspiration to stand up and do what’s right. Hell, there’s a whole part of the Smithsonian dedicated to you. You’re in high school textbooks, and there are movies about you. Steve, you changed the world just by existing. The world will be a darker place without you in it, so don't take that light away.”

Steve blinked slowly. Big blue eyes still wet with tears. “You told me about the future,” he whispered, “Clint. I told you not to do that.”

Clint blinked, drawing back a little, “What?”

“I told you. The books say the universe is going to end. You just destroyed the universe Clint.”

“I just...no. That is not how it works. Universe still standing,” Clint smiled. A soft chuckle left him at Steve’s incredibly weak attempt at humor. It wasn't any good, but it gave Clint hope Steve would be okay. Gently, he placed a kiss on Steve’s forehead before tucking the blonde back in, “Go to bed you lunatic.”

“You’re the lunatic,” Steve grumbled back, red eyes slipping closed, “Messing around with time and space…”

“Get some sleep Steve,” Clint murmured, “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Steve smiled weakly back, before falling into an exhausted sleep. Clint sat, keeping watch on the silent room. A strong hand rested on Steve’s thin shoulder, relaxing with each exhale leaving the omega. 

Outside an owl hooted, a reminder that the world was continuing on. Inside the house, Clint shut his eyes. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, drawing him down towards the bed.

Dull eyes opened back in the Smithsonian. Clint stared blankly around the room, taking in the picture but not actually seeing him as he sat on the tiled floors. Tired, he leaned back against the wall looking up at the picture of Steve. It was the small smile on Steve’s face that broke something in Clint.

In a while, Clint would get up and wander back to the party. He'd stand there, letting Nat fuss over him in her own way. He'd just shrug when she de,Andes where the blood came from, if he was hurt, what had happened. He wouldn't even complain when she dragged him to the hospital for a check up.

But that was later.

Right now, Clint mourned for the loss of his friend. Now that he didn't have to be strong for Steve, he could let all the grief and anger at the universe out. Just for a little while. 

Then, when his eyes were red from tears and his voice hoarse from screaming, Clint would go back out to join the rest of the world. 

And after that, Clint was damned well going to make sure that Steve survived and got to stay with Bucky. It was the least the universe could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even with his job, Steve is still not happy with his body. Losing a child is just going to make his displeasure with his body even worse.
> 
> Clint seeing Steve naked is not sexual at all. That scene is actually based on something that happened back in college. I was in a bad car accident, and couldn't walk due to a broken leg and bad concussion. For about a week, my roommate had to get me in and out of the bath in the apartment because I couldn't stand long enough to shower. So she saw a lot more of me than she ever wanted to at that point in time. 
> 
> Yeah, nothing sexual at all in those scenarios. Just a great friend who helps you when you physically can't take care of yourself.


	10. Bucky Barnes: Requiem for a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After months of pretending to be alright, Bucky can finally let go. Years of grief and rage are released as he struggles to adjust to new knowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter, I focused mainly on how Bucky is doing in this whole mess. In my head cannon, Bucky holds everything inside when he's with the other Avengers because he's always on as Captain America. So it's only when he's home and alone that he can let everything out.

Shutting the door to his apartment, Bucky let out the breath he'd been holding all night. It actually hurt to breathe out, to attempt to let the weight go and try to relax but he did. He breathed, struggling to calm down, forehead pressed against the wood as he struggled to make the world right again.

He was always worried when Clint traveled back in time, but for the wrong reasons. He didn't care that Clint disappeared into one of the bloodiest periods in history. Didn't even really worry about Clint seeing Steve when Bucky couldn't, or concerned about their growing friendship. No, that wasn't why Bucky worried.

Each time he worried that Clint would come back to inform them that the mission failed. That Steve was dead and buried in the ground, nothing could be done to save him. That was Bucky’s greatest fear. 

So when he'd seen Clint show up covered in blood but uninjured, that's what he'd thought happened. Hydra caught up and Bucky had lost Steve forever. 

Angry, helpless sobs built up in his chest at the thought. Useless, Bucky realized pounding his forehead against the wood, that's what he was to his little mate right now. Completely useless. Couldn't kiss away Stevie’s worries in the 21st century, or hold him close and promise everything would be okay. Bucky was just trapped in the future, unable to tuck Steve in close and promise that everything would be alright.

Hell, Bucky hadn't even been there when Steve needed him most. When Steve needed comfort and assurance as his own body turned against him, leaving him broken and alone. Clint had been there, and Bucky hadn't even been aware it was happening.

Bucky had never hated himself more than he day.

He grit his teeth, unable to stop the images from coming. Of Steve, pale and frightened. Sobbing when he started bleeding. Calling out for an absent mate, screaming in pain for Bucky to just be there, to hold him. Steve, lying defeated in his own blood, unable to find the will to stand up and recapture his fighting spirit again. Alone and heartbroken, abandoned by his mate.

Fuck. Bucky should have been there. Rage course through him, pulling him from the door to stalk like a caged animal through the apartment. Bucky should have been there taking care of Steve. He should have washed the blood from his skin, tucked the exhausted omega into bed and made everything okay again.

Bucky had promised he would remain by Steve’s side until the end of the line. Promised that in front of God and everyone, a vow to his new bride who had smiled like the sun up at him. And he'd broken it. 

With a roar of rage, Bucky grabbed the vase sitting on the end table and launched it across the room. The sound of it shattering made something dark, visceral in him settle back down. Blood was pumping through his veins, making the rage worse and worse as he stared at the shattered remains of the vase. 

“You never told me,” Bucky whispered, voice more growl than anything else. 

On the mantle, Steve’s picture stared serenely back. The sweet smile from the wedding portrait unmoving. No quirk of thin lips, no teasing questions. Just black and white stillness.

And that just made Bucky angrier. 

“You should have told me about the pup!” He roared, wishing that Steve would fucking say something back to him, “About all of it! I shouldn’t have found out my wife had a miscarriage from someone else! What the hell were you thinking, hiding that from me?”

Steve didn't respond. Just continued to smile. 

“I should have been there,” Bucky whispered the rage slipping away to leave despair in its place. Tears filled his eyes, making it hard to see Steve, “I would have come home the second you told me about the pup. The Commandos would have been able handle the war without me, American could have spared me for a couple of months so I could look after you. Then I would have been there for you when this happened.” 

A harsh sob shook his entire body, tearing Bucky down. Hot tears streamed down his face, making it difficult to breathe. He remembered receiving a letter from Steve, posted a week after what Bucky now knew was the miscarriage. It had been shaky, the writing smudged in different places which was unlike Steve as it brokenly explained that Steve had seen a doctor who had told him he was infertile. 

It had been awful, and Bucky understood why his mate would be upset by that. Hell, he'd been upset although he would never tell Steve that. Bucky assumed the news was why Steve had been so upset in the letter, and he had done everything possible to assure his mate of how much Bucky loved him. And he'd assumed that had been it. 

Logically, Bucky knew why Stevie hadn't said anything about the pup. Knew his doll didn't want Bucky to worry while he was off fighting a war, just wanted Bucky to focus on coming back home safe and sound. 

But that didn't stop Bucky from wishing Steve had told him back then. Because Bucky knew he would have left the army, returned to his mate and taken care of Steve. He would have wiped the tears away, told Steve everything would work out, not Clint. 

It just wasn't fair that Clint got to see Bucky’s mate alive and whole, while Bucky was left with a cold bed and fading memories. It wasn't fair that Clint got to hear Steve’s voice, while Bucky struggled to remember the exact sound of an Irish Brooklyn accent when his Stevie got tired. 

“Stevie,” Bucky whimpered, staring desperately up at the picture, “Babydoll, I miss you so much. God, what am I supposed to do without you?”

But of course, the picture couldn't say anything back. It only smiled back at Bucky with that same expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to mention that only part of this is his grief/rage about the miscarriage. The other, much larger, part of the breakdown is just dealing with the uncertainty of Steve's situation.
> 
> And no, Steve did not tell him about the miscarriage. He would have at the end of the war, but would not tell his husband the news while Bucky is in active combat. Which means that Clint had to tell Buck.
> 
> Steve has been dead for years to Bucky, and now there's a chance to save him. Or it will accomplish nothing and he'll still be alone. The uncertainty and reliance of Clint to deal with it is slowly killing Bucky. So while he's been holding it in, the news about the miscarriage is what caused the explosion.


	11. Steve Rogers: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is going to become the first omega engineer in the world, or at least that's the excise he is using to get to England. The real reason is Bucky's across the Atlantic and Steve will do anything to see his mate again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this one out. We're heading into AP testing time, so my kids are in crunch time and we're running drills to get them prepared. 
> 
> I've also been having to do a ton of research for my government classes. So the federal government is suing California for not complying with immigration laws and that's all my students want to talk about. Which means I've become an expert in immigration law this month to answer their questions. The joy of being a teacher with students interested in the world...

Things were difficult for a while. Looking back on the past few months, Steve could honestly say he wasn't sure how he made it through. After Clint had disappeared, he'd just curled up in bed and cried until he made himself sick. It had been a struggle to get up and go to work, but he'd gone. A couple of times Steve had just put his head down on his desk and cried for a little while, the grief catching up and choking him. 

Dorothy had been a godsend. She had covered for him when the supervisors asked questions, dragged him back to attention and kept him going at work. Some days she even dragged him home and forced a home cooked (actually decent) meal down his throat. Dorothy had even held his hand when he'd written to Bucky (telling his husband that he was barren) before drying Steve’s eyes and mailing the letter herself. 

Without her, Steve probably would have given into depression. But with Dorothy’s prodding, he'd managed to pull himself together. 

She had been the one who told Steve to focus on the work, to distract himself from his grief, and he did. Steve spent hours at his desk, going over calculations long after everyone else had left. After the third asthma attack the stress had triggered, Steve been pushed (forcibly) towards other pursuits that took up his time.

Which was how he ended up going back to school in order to get his mind off of everything. When the new semester started at Old Dominion University, Steve was there in class ready to go. Sitting front and center of the classroom, he was the only male omega present and received several strange expressions and hostile looks for his presence. But Steve didn't care, was here to get an engineering degree if it killed him. 

Luckily for him, his work at Langley got him excused from most of his classes and pushed his degree ahead. It was hard for a professor to say Steve didn't know what he was doing when he had evidence that he worked for Howard Stark on some of the most technically advanced projects of the work. Their flabbergasted expressions at Steve’s intense work brought a small, smug smile to the omega’s face. 

It was nice, Steve mused, to return to a world where people didn't expect him to succeed. At Lnagley, he was now recognized as one of the best computers on the staff. In the Hamptons, the people all knew he had a streak for justice a mile wide and wouldn't hesitate to swing first. Their shock and horror had slowly turned in weary acceptance as his neighbors grew used to Steve’s black eyes and split lips. 

But the university! Oh, they didn't know what hit them. Completely stunned by Steve’s brazen determination to succeed and shocked at his growing desire with each insulting comment.

All Steve needed in order to become a full fledged engineer was to get Howard Stark’s signature on a document that proved Steve’s contribution on Project: Rebirth. Which was easier said than done, when Howard was in England working on some secret project that took all of his time and attention. 

So Steve got himself sent to England. Not just for the degree, but also to check over Howard’s math on a few new projects that were taking off. And to see Bucky again. He just knew his mate couldn't function without Steve there to watch over him.

Heading the England had been a bigger production than Steve planned on it being. The first issue had been Clint, specifically how to excuse his random presence to Bucky. Steve had dealt with that quickly, creating a cover story in his spare time before packing a bag and leaving the country. 

The trip over to England was the second biggest issue. The rough Atlantic seas weren't the problem, even though it made Steve seasick and had him spend most of the trip puking over the railing. No, the problem had been navigating to England safely. Open war had already been declared years ago, and it carried over into the sea. The ship worried over German u-boats, the constant threat of being sunk weighing heavily on the other passengers minds. 

Steve would have been more concerned if Clint hadn't appeared a few times during the journey. The other alpha had been worried the first time, but been relaxed when he reappeared again while taking the time to gently tease Steve for his awful seasickness. So Steve was taking that as a sign that Clint, who was from the future, knew that the ship was not going to be sunk. 

And sure enough, they arrived in England in one piece. 

Steve was ridiculously happy to get off the boat and gather his things. It was nice not to have to deal with the constant rocking motion or fear of the Germans. It was even better not to be pressed around the constant presence of the other passengers and Steve was thankful that he would get some privacy. Or as much privacy as possible while on an army base.

Or he would be, if he could actually get his bag lifted. The damn thing seemed to have gained a couple of pounds since Steve first packed it. 

An annoyed growl was building in Steve’s chest even as his arms shook from fatigue. His constant illness hadn't made this process any easier and Steve just wanted to get away from the constant stares at the dock before he had an asthma attack. “Here,” a familiar voice teased, grabbing the bag out of Steve’s hands, “I'll carry that for you little miss.”

Steve snarled at that, snapping his teeth in annoyance, “Call me that one more time, I dare you!”

But Clint, the asshole, just laughed at him even as he shouldered the bag. He gently bumped Steve’s shoulder before leading the tiny blonde through the bustling traffic of London. “You know where we’re headed Rogers,” Clint asked, dressed in his MP uniform.

Steve hummed absent mindedly, eyes tracking the bomb damaged buildings standing around him. “Peggy sent me the address, and the captain of the boat when over the route with me,” Steve admitted, “So yeah, I have an idea of where we're headed.”

“Bucky not doing to get you?” Clint asked, eyes moving constantly over the crowd to look for any potential threats.

Steve would never admit it out loud, but he found the protectiveness kind of sweet. It wasn't the cloying protectiveness of most alphas, Clint was well aware that Steve could handle himself. But it was nice to be reminded that someone cared. 

“Bucky’s been out in the field the last couple of months,” Steve allowed Clint to steer him through the next press of bodies moving down the street. “He gets back to London sometime this week, so I figured I could surprise him.”

“With a heart attack. Seriously, how did you think he would respond to you being in an active war zone?”

“By being so grateful to see my gorgeous face that he doesn't think that far?”

“Terrible planning Mrs. Barnes. Seriously, you are the worst,” Clint’s easy smile slipped away, “Did you tell him about…”

“No. He doesn't need to know about my...about what happened to our pup,” Steve whispered. Angrily, he dashed the tears from his eyes. “He needs to focus on the war. I'll tell him once he's won it.”

Clint pulled him in for a rough, one armed hug. “Damned straight you will,” Clint muttered, “I’ll make sure that happens.” He kept Steve pressed close, only releasing the omega when he started squirming to get away. 

They practically tumbled down the street, laughing and teasing as they bustled around the boys London streets. Steve was aware that Clint was looking after him, could tell from the protective lines coming off the alpha. It was obvious as Clint would steer him around the ruined remains of buildings, or around deep craters in the ground in an attempt to keep Steve from tripping and breaking his neck. Or the way Clint would eye strangers suspiciously while keeping Steve away from them. 

It was adorable, and Steve just smiled fondly up at him while catching Clint up on the gossip back in Langley. It was a buzzard mix of things, including state secrets and every day office gossip. There was no other work place where one minute you would be speaking about who drank the last of the coffee, and the next you’re discussing the possibilities of space flight. 

Finally though they managed to make it to the building, guarded by serious faced MPs who glared at them. Their expressions didn't crack even as Steve pulled out the proper documents that allowed them into the building. One even went so far as to squint suspiciously at Steve as he moved past. 

“Suspicious lot,” Clint grumbled, continuing to carry the bags deeper into the building as he followed in Steve’s wake, “Couldn't kill them to smile at you?” 

“Probably would kill them, and no one wants that,” Steve teased while trotting deeper into the building. “We need all the boys we can get to win the war.”

“Sounds like a well practiced line there Rogers. You say it often?”

Every day. Each morning when he woke up, staring at an empty bed he'd whisper that to attempt to justify why Bucky was gone before going about his day. “I say it often enough,” Steve murmured, “The joy of working for the government. You have to say stuff like that.”

“That sucks man,” Clint made an over exaggerated grimace, bringing a small laugh from Steve, “Hey, we headed to your man first?”

“Nope,” Steve popped the p as he shouldered a heavy door open, “Going to check in with Stark first.”

“Before your husband?”

“I'm getting that done so I can spend the rest of the time with my husband,” Steve turned and waggled bus eyebrows at Clint, “I've got to try all those new muscles of Buck’s out. Make sure they’re up to inspection.” 

Clint snorted, “Didn't you already do that?”

“That was a preliminary test. I need to double check the data to make sure it's consistent,” Steve smirked, “I've very thorough with my checks. It's why I'm the best computer in my group.”

Clint rolling his eyes was the last thing Steve saw before he stepped into the madhouse that was Howard’s lab. The absolute chaos of the place made Steve freeze for a minute, unused to the insanity after a couple months break.

But then it all clicked back in place. So Steve squared his shoulders and dove into the mess. 

He stepped over wires and spun around machinery like a veteran. It was second nature to duck under sweeping arms and avoid the sparks of welding equipment. When one person jolted to their feet in his path, Steve knew where to move to avoid being trampled. The insanity and madness was a well rehearsed dance, and a small part of Steve rejoiced in returning to it. But that was a very small part and Steve would never actually admit to it. 

Eventually he worked his way to the back, where the grand conductor of the madhouse was busy at work. Howard stood there, a giant grin on his face as he played around with something that could probably level the place. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, face smudged with oil (please dear God let it be oil) as barked orders at a poor technician who looked overwhelmed and on the verge of tears.

With a huff, Steve pushed his way forward. “Stark!” His loud bark fracked across the room, and Steve had the perverse pleasure of watching Stark respond. The inventor’s shoulders climbed up to his ears as he ducked down, wary eyes darting over the lab until hey landed on Steve’s diminutive size.

“Rogers,” Stark smiled nervously, taking a cautious step away from Steve. “I thought you were in Virginia?”

“I was,” Steve’s smile was all teeth as he held out a demanding hand, “Until I decided to check in on you. Hand over your calculations.” 

“You really did not have to do that,” Stark grumbled but dutifully handed over the papers, “I'm just fine without you here breathing over my shoulder. And whose the goon?”

“A friend,” Steve quipped, sending a quick grin up at Clint, who was staring quietly around the lap with a furrowed brow and heavy friend, “He’s making sure I don't die when on my own.”

“A babysitter?” Howard demanded, a glare crossing his face. 

Clint just shrugged, “Mostly I try to keep Rogers here from fighting people twice his size.”

“Thankless job that,” Stark grinned, eyes still wary but willing to be friendly. “Stevie here will just turn and try to claw your eyes out.”

“Call me Stevie one more time, and I'll break your nose,” Steve flicked his wrist, smacking Howard in the chest with the papers. “Also, you're math is off.”

“What? No it isn't,” Howard grabbed the papers in annoyance, “My math is perfect. This test will go perfectly.”

“No it won't, you didn't carry the one,” Steve complained. 

Not that Howard was listening. No, the madman had turned back to his strange machine with a manic gleam in his eyes as he started to turn the lever.

A few things all happened at one. Number one, Howard turned on the machine and a strange blue glow lit up the room. Number two, Steve moved forward, mouth open to yell Stark about how he needed to fix the machine because the math was off. And number three, Clint dropped the bags to the ground and lunged forward. 

All of these would have been inconsequential if not for number four. Specifically, when the weird blue glossy thing Stark was playing with exploded. Spectacularly. 

Stark was thrown clear across the room, along with a few technicians. Steve would have joined him (and probably broken several bones) if Clint hadn't caught him around the waist as dragged them both to the ground. So instead of flying into heavy steel, Steve was pressed into the floor by Clint’s bulk. 

Steve gasped in pain, the wind knocked out of him by the dive. Helplessly, he laid there, staring up at Clint’s furious expression while he struggled to catch his breath. It was harder than it should have been, the dust stirred up chased Steve’s lungs to squeeze as an asthma attack crept up on him.

“Like father like fucking son,” Clint’s furious growl was barely heard over the ringing in Steve’s ears, “That’s where Tony got it from.”

“Tony, Howard’s son,” Steve whispered, the pieces slowly creeping together in his head. Clint had mentioned Howard having a child months ago, but Steve had dims smiled it due to the whole time travel thing. But today, right now, something was starting to connect in Steve’s brain. Something was wrong, and he was determined to figure it out. “You mentioned him before.”

“Yeah,” was Clint’s suspicious answer. “What of it?”

Steve was about to respond, but the sound of yelling cut him off. It seemed like someone had come to investigate the explosion. There was a lot of yelling now, and it was during this added chaos that Clint hauled Steve back up to his feet and then stepped away. His expression was guarded, unreadable to Steve for the first time in a while. He looked remote, distant, untouchable even as a bit of purple peaked out from the cut of the MP uniform. That damn backpack, the one Clint always stuffed under his shirt to hide, cut open and dropping stuff onto the floor even as Clint faded away back to the future.

Left standing in the smoking remains of the lab and the remains of Clint’s backpack, Steve bit his lip. The world around his was going insane, technicians yelling and smoke and fire and Howard ordering people to write stuff down and Steve was just standing in the middle with trash for the future. How had he even ended up here?

Curiosity starting to creep in, drawing Steve to drop to his knees and examine the trash on the floor. Candy wrappers, scraps of paper, all the useless odds and ends that one would expect from the inside of a backpack. But what Steve was not expecting was the little square rectangle sitting there. Sleek and shiny, it stood out in the smoke of the lab. It was so easy for Steve to reach out and grab it before putting it in one of his pockets.

The sound of the lab door slamming open each led throughout the room, and Philips comforting bellow blasted out across the room. A fond smile crossed Steve’s face at the sound as he got back on his feet to face the doorway. 

And sure enough, Philips was standing there bellowing at Howard, who was completely unrepentant in the face of the barrage. But what really caught Steve’s attention was the strange group of men standing in the doorway, peeking in like naughty children. Steve had never seen the odd mix before in person, but recognized them from the newsreels that they watched fanatically at Langley. Captain America’s Howling Commandos in the flesh. 

Which meant Steve’s captain had to be close by as well. 

Putting the strange rectangle and Clint to the back of his mind for now, Steve slowly started to pick his way across the ruined lab in the hopes of asking one of Bucky’s boys where the man in question was. But before he could get more than halfway there, the alpha in question shouldered his way through the Commandos with a furious scowl on his face as he went to stare down Howard. 

“What the fuck was that,” Bucky spat, stalking into the lab and heading directly towards a sheepish looking Howard, “That explosion could have taken the entire base out! What were you thinking?” 

And oh. The newsreels did not do Bucky justice. Especially not angry Bucky with flashing eyes and a snarl on his lips. It didn't highlight the way the leather clung to Bucky’s strong muscles, emphasizing his biceps and...oh my. Steve flushed, eyes wide as they took in what had to be abbs, which yes he'd seen in person but seeing them showcased in leather and straps was just a treat. There was no one on earth who would judge him for whimpering a little. 

He was aware that his eyes were wide as he stared at Bucky, distantly aware that everyone was now looking at him for making such an omega like sound. But they didn't matter. No, the only thing that mattered was Bucky who was staring back at Steve with wide eyes as well.

“Steve,” Bucky whispered, taking hesitant steps forward towards his mate. “You're here…”

Steve sent him a shy smile, stepping forward to meet Bucky halfway across the lab. Tiny hands reached up to gently trace the curve of Bucky’s cheek. “Hi Bucko,” Steve murmured, leaning in for a kiss.

Except he was stopped by two strong hands grabbing his shoulders. Blue eyes fluttered open to meet the unimpressed scowl on Bucky’s face. An expression of rage was slowly darkening the handsome visage. Fury shone through grey eyes as Bucky’s fingers curled into bony shoulders. “You're here Steve,” Bucky snarled, “In the middle of an active war zone when you should be back home nice and safe.”

“According to some girls from work, the US is an active war zone…”

“Don't you try to be cute with me doll,” Bucky snapped out and Steve really should be finding this so attractive. Really, Steve knew he was supposed to feel chastised but he was too busy staring at all those muscles so close to him (it had been a while, alright?), “Why the hell aren't your at work, where you're safe?”

So sure, it had been a while, but Steve was not an idiot. He knew if he told his very overprotective mate that he was here for a sign off on a college degree, Bucky would kill him. Like rip Steve apart and not feel bad after the fact level of rage which rarely ever happened. Steve would need to handle this very carefully to make sure a furious Bucky didn't divorce him on principle. 

With long years of survival instincts had Steve purposefully widening his eyes so they were big and blue, a sweet innocent look slowly sliding over his face that drove Bucky wild. “I missed you husband,” Steve’s voice was a meek little thing, barely a whisper in the now silent room.

Bucky’s narrowed eyes lost some of their rage, softening at the sight of his omega looking sweetly up at him. “I know what you're doing Stevie,” Bucky rumbled, letting Steve squirm his way close for a hug, “Making those big eyes at me won't get you out of trouble.”

“Don't want trouble,” was Steve’s smart reply, “Just want you.” Which was clearly the best response because it had Bucky softening up even more. He went from all hard lines to gentle curves, tucking Steve into his side as he led the omega out the door and past the gaping technicians. Steve didn't care, not for their shock or for Howard’s knowing smirk. He was right where he wanted to be and he was just happy to be able to look up and see Bucky’s handsome face.

“You're going to ruin my reputation doll,” Bucky’s rumble sent shivers up Steve’s spine. “All these boys will make fun of me, seeing me wrapped around the fingers of my wife.”

“Sounds like your life's story. Everyone back home knew you were whipped,” Steve hopped up on his toes to press a quick kiss to Bucky’s cheek. He had to stifle an evil cackle at the wide eyed expression a couple of soldiers sent him for the daring move, their nervous eyes flicking from Bucky’s scowl to Steve’s bright grin, “Now Mr. Barnes, where are we headed?”

“My bunk,” Bucky’s arm pulled Steve in close, large palm covering the tiny waist possessively, “Privilege of being a captain is I get my own bunk.”

“Perfect for defiling naughty omegas,” was Steve’s mild contribution, bringing out a pleased growl from his mate who was now hustling him down the hall as quickly as possible without setting off an asthma attack. In mere seconds, Steve was being pulled into the minimal room, laughing into Bucky’s demanding mouth as the alpha manhandled him into the small bunk. 

Soon laughter turned to gasps, which slowly turned into drawn out moans. Steve fell back onto the sheets, uncaring of how they scratched his skin because they were lost compared to the feeling of his alpha pinning him down, sliding easily between spread thighs back where he belonged.

It was so simple to give into the pleasure, to relax under Bucky’s care and let his alpha loom after him. Even easier to press hungry kisses against Buck’s bondmark with a single minded determination. God, it felt amazing just to feel pleasure and Steve never wanted this moment to end.

And even when it was over he was happy. Tucked snuggly against Bucky’s strong chest, his good ear resting on the beating heart of his mate. It just felt great, wonderful to luxuriate in the feel of warm skin pressed against warm skin again. So it physically hurt when the moment ended. 

A pained whine left Steve when Bucky removed himself from the bed. Heartbroken blue eyes followed Bucky’s movement as the alpha started to dress himself. 

“You're leaving,” and Steve really hated how tiny his voice sounded there. Yes, he had missed his mate more than anything, but that was no reason to sound so pathetic. 

“Oh doll, no. Don't be sad love,” Bucky was back, curling over Steve bare form on the bunk to press adoring kisses to Steve’s heartbroken expression, “They need me for a planning session, but I promise I'll come right back here to you.”

“I don't want you to leave any more,” Steve whispered, ashamed of himself for giving his most secret thought life. He whined, pressing closer to Bucky’s frantic reassurances, “I just want us to go back to our house and grow old together. No more projects, no more war. Just us.”

“I know Stevie, I want that too,” Bucky pressed an adoring kiss to Steve’s nose, “We’ll make that a reality soon doll. I know that, we're going to get out happy ending.”

“But first you need to win the war,” Steve whispered, turning his head away, “I know that's what has to happen Buck. Just...I guess you make me all sentimental. Must be all the muscle, makes my practical sensibilities run for the hills.”

“Sensible or not, you'll always be my best guy,” Steve sighed into a sweet kiss, grinning up at his handsome mate as Bucky got back to his feet. “Come on Mes. Barnes,” Bucky teased, “Let’s get you fit for politie company then I'll introduce you to my guys.”

“Sounds like a plan Captain America,” Steve teased, laughing at Bucky’s groan at the name, “Go ahead love. We both know I'm slow getting ready. Don't want to give myself an asthma attack.”

“You sure you'll be able to find me?”

“I can find you anywhere Mr. Barnes, go on then.”

With one last kiss, Bucky turned and left the room leaving Steve to get himself ready. He knew he wouldn't look proper or out together, not with the dark bruises Bucky had sucked onto his neck or his kiss swollen lips. But he could make sure his clothes weren't to wrinkled to give a better impression to Bucky’s Commandos. 

The sound of something heavy hitting the ground caught Steve’s attention. The strange thing Clint had left behind was lying there, the light shining off of it. But something had changed. The black background had disappeared, turning to a copy of the ground with some lines on it. Steve frowned at it, pressing the screen and jumping when a clicking noise followed.

“It's a camera,” he breathed in realization, stunned to see a picture appear. Delighted, he knelt down ignoring the creaking in his knees to continue poking at the image. He managed to do something (never ask him to recreate it because it would be impossible) but it made the camera disappear and replaced it with the picture Steve had taken. 

More playing around with the pictures led to Steve being able to scroll through them, going backwards and looking at what Clint deemed important in his world. It was mind boggling to see what people had accomplished in the future. The sleek cars and buildings, the strange fashion, the bright lights, it was amazing. Even if it hurt Steve’s brain to look at because with each picture there was a little corner of information telling him what day, month, and year Clint took the picture in.

And then Steve felt his world grind to a stop. The little box said June 25, 2014 and it was a picture of a handsome black man laughing with Bucky. Steve’s Bucky. Young, handsome, the same age as the alpha that had just left the room but with sadder eyes. Picture after picture of Bucky with people. Sometimes Clint, sometimes the black man, sometimes a beautiful red headed woman, but Steve's Bucky was there. 

Bucky was alive in 2014, more than fifty years into the future. He knew Clint, they worked together and looked like they both worse stupid outfits. Time travel was involved somehow, that Steve knew as well. But he didn't know how this all came together. There was something he was missing some piece that would make this all make sense and would explain how Bucky ended up in the future. 

But to get that, Steve would have to talk to Clint. Nothing would come of this right now. 

So Steve hid the box in his bag, brushed the stray tears from his face, and held his head high as he walked out the door. All his fear, his concern, was shoved down deep as he wandered back out into the rest of the world. His mate was waiting for him, in the present for now, and Steve would no leave Bucky behind in this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve has found Clint's cellphone and is starting to put the pieces together. He's now aware Bucky is in the future, but doesn't know the details. So they're going to have a fun talk.
> 
> Next chapter is going to be more of Steve's adventures in England during the war. He's also going to meet the Howling Commandos and I've got plans for that group.
> 
> Hope y'all are enjoying it so far.


	12. Steve Rogers: One Life Versus the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His Bucky is in the future. That’s all Steve knows. He’ll ha e to wait for more information before acting, but can cling close to his mate in the meantime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re getting close to the end! I had to add an extra chapter because I was not planning on making this as detailed as it has become. This was supposed to be a one shot. Not fourteen chapters of Steve and Clint feels.
> 
> Good news though. I got the Commandos in (twelve chapters later...) and I just love those boys.

The Howling Commandos (really? Who had come up with that name?) were sweet boys once Steve had gotten to know them. They were puppyish in their affection, teasing and pushing and shoving like all children did for attention. It made Steve smile, especially when one of the lot would wrap an arm around Bucky’s neck and drag him into the rough housing with bright laughter. 

They were a good enough team for his mate, Steve decided, even if they did treat him like glass. It wasn't a huge surprise, not really. Steve knew how fragile and tiny he looked, especially compared to the muscular bulk of his husband, so it made sense such rough soldiers thought he was breakable. 

It wasn't like they often went into Howard’s lab and got to watch Steve in his element. They didn't see him plowing through the genius’s destruction with single minded focus to bring some sense of order back to the world. Or they didn't watch Steve put out fires with the efficient skill of a man so used to them that he no longer really cared. So yeah, understandable. But annoying as hell.

Which was why Steve decided to get back at them a little. Really, it wasn't going to be that bad. But Dum Dum (“That is not his name,” Steve had hissed to his laughing mate after the quick introductions, “Stop fucking with me and tell me his name.”) had called Steve sweetheart and picked him up to lift him over a puddle while the rest of the Commandos nodded on in pride and Bucky paled and looked panicked. No one picked Steve Rogers Barnes up and lived to tell the tale. So yeah, they would suffer a little bit (but not too much because they were good boys. Just stupid).

Steve had bided his time, waiting for the perfect time to strike. He'd watched, silent and taking in all the details which had been noticed. Howard was rightly terrified, jumping at shadows and refusing to be alone with Steve in any room at any point in time. Philips had taken one look at Steve’s expression before turning around and walking right out, calling loudly that he did not ever want to know. Peggy looked pleased, presiding over everything with the air of a doting sister, ready to step in and provide a helping hand. 

And Bucky seemed determined to pretend that nothing was happening, that his men weren't being patronizing assholes. Even though he kept sending Steve warning looks and holding him a bit closer and tighter than usual as he pretended to go about his daily routine while very purposefully trying to distract Steve from his men. 

Which led to this glorious moment, where Steve was able to extract his revenge. They were settled in a pub, one of the millions still standing in London that housed soldiers and sailors like it was their main purpose. Steve had been brought along, and was tucked safely against the wall with his mate on one side by the soldiers. (“A simple precaution, Dum Dum said with a deferential nod, “Need to make sure Cap’s wife is safe.” Steve had just smiled prettily and waited.)

The table was filled with empty glasses, the men red faced and laughing loudly and brightly above the rest of the pub. Bucky had even relaxed, a smile on his handsome face as he pressed absent minded kisses on Steve’s cheek and obviously delighted in the fact that he could kiss his mate now that there wasn't an ocean separating them. 

Steve was still on the same pint he'd first been given. He'd been sipping it slowly, doing everything he could to keep his wits about him as the boys got more and more drunk. It was only when Gabe Jones offered to get the next round that Steve acted. 

“Oh Bucky,” Steve let his head fall onto Bucky’s strong shoulder, staring up coyly through his eyelashes in a typical omega pose from the movies. He let out a tiny sigh, a cue for his alpha to ask what was wrong. 

Bucky, who had frozen the minute Steve had turned coy and sweet, stared for war with single minded determination. “Stevie,” Bucky asked, voice strained, “You feeling alright doll?”

“Oh yes,” he sighed again, internally cackling as Bucky froze even more, “I'm just so terribly impressed by how brave you are.” 

That got a series of hearty cheers from the boys, each one laughingly trying to tell Steve what a catch he had. They were completely oblivious to Bucky’s tension, the way his muscles coiled in preparation for attack or the frantic way his eyes darted to his tiny mate and back away. It was precious, Steve mused watching Gabe pass out the next round of drinks, how a bunch on grown men didn't see their doom coming. 

“I just couldn't believe the news when I first heard it myself,” Steve purposefully made his voice sound a bit breather while his voice dipped into the southern belle accents he'd been surrounded in for the last few years. The very same accent Steve used to softly mock his supervisors at Langley. “How courageous my alpha was, serving with some of those people.”

Bucky turned, pinning Steve with an incredulous look for the comment. But Steve wasn't watching that, oh no. His expression was on the quickly darkening faces of the Commandos. It was painfully clear that they wanted to respond, maybe even with their fists, but were obviously uncomfortable with striking their superior officer’s mate which was what Steve had been banking on.

“Steve,” Bucky hissed, clearly struggling not to demand what the fuck was going on here. 

Steve gleefully ignored him, keeping his expression politely interested even as he sharply watched the beers. 

“And what exactly do you mean by those people,” Morita asked, a sharpness now present in his voice.

“Oh you know what I'm talking about. That horrible clash where my darling James comes into contact with the worst humanity has to offer. Besides the Nazis,” and there it was, the moment Steve had waited for. Bucky’s boys were drinking determinedly to not say something back. Right at mid chug, Steve let the southern accent drop and his thick Irish accent inherited from his mother came out, “Serving with the English bastards. A disgrace to the Barnes and Rogers names.”

Each Commando choked on their drinks. Eyes wide, mouths sputtering as beer flew over the table at the quick misdirection. Falsworth was coughing the hardest, seeing how he'd managed to snort beer up his nose while Dum Dum’s mustache was dripping. Steve threw his head back and cackled, tears of mirth filling his eyes at the dumbstruck looks on their faces and the long suffering expression on Bucky’s.

“Crazy punk,” Bucky rumbled, shoving Steve hard enough to send him swaying into the wall, “They were literally seconds away from punching you, you know that right?”

“Aw Bucko, that was half the fun,” Steve teased. 

“What just happened,” Morita muttered, side eyeing Steve as Gabe and Dernier both started a hushed conversation in agitated French. 

Steve took a sip from his pint. “You all heard I was an omega from Virginia and immediately thought sweet southern belle,” he sent them the knife sharp grin he'd perfected by the time he was twelve, “I decided to correct you on that assumption.”

“By being psychotic?” Dum Dum growled out even as Bucky let out an exasperated, “They did not treat you like that, you're just an asshole.”

“They did too!” How dare Bucky not back him up on this! “That one, right there,” Steve pointed at Falsworth, who now had the decency to look afraid, “Put his jacket over a mub puddle so I wouldn't get my shoes dirty!”

Bucky just groaned. “That's being polite.”

“No. It's coddling the omega,” Steve huffed, “I don't see them offering that to you near mud puddles.”

“What, so if they offered it to me, it would be fine in your books?”

“Of course it would.”

“You are a dirty liar Mrs. Barnes. You’d still try to fight them.”

“I'll fight you, you oversized pile of…”

“What is even happening,” Morita’s absolutely confused wail cut through the argument like a knife. A sheepish Bucky and grumpy Steve turned to face the still stunned Commandos.

“What even are you,” Gabe gestured helplessly at Steve, “You look so sweet and then you two start talking…”

“Dear Lord, how did you two even meet?” Was Falsworth’s helpful contribution.

Bucky grinned at the question, wrapping a possessive arm around skinny shoulders. “We met when this one,” he gave Steve an affectionate squeeze, “Broke my nose with a wood plank when I was five.”

The Commandos just stared blankly back at them. “Of course,” Gabe’s dry voice cut through the still air of their table, “Cause you typically marry the person who broke your face as a child.”

“In my defense, I was aiming for Tim Miller who was making fun of Bucky and missed,” Steve admitted.

“And then tried to apologize but ended up having an asthma attack so I ended up carrying this crazy four year old home, who was barely breathing, while covered in blood,” Steve willingly let Bucky tip his chin up for a slow, sweet kiss. “Ended up imprinting or some shit on the crazy Irish bastard, and we've been together ever since.” 

“We're the love story of the modern age,” Steve announced grandly.

“You're a fucking lunatic is what you are,” was Dum Dum’s response and that was that. The Commandos stopped treating Steve with kid gloves, and instead watched the tiny omega with something like pure awe as he planted himself firmly in the weapons development area and took control. 

His furious expressions and willingness to fight literally everyone, including Philips, rose him from being just Cap’s mate to a warrior goddess of luck status. Steve Rogers was the one who stared down Stark when he came up with wild ideas and firmly yanked them into a calmer direction. He also attempted to physically fight Commander Johnson when the man made a disparaging comment about Morita and it was only Dum Dum picking Steve up and carrying him away that allowed the Commander to escape with both eyes still in his skull. 

“So,” Bucky asked at another pub night, strong arm curled around Steve’s waist as they picked up the next round of drinks (by they, I mean Steve had volunteered to get the next round, nearly dropped everything, and then Bucky stepped in), “What do you think of my team now that you've met them?”

“They’re good, except the British one, he's just alright,” Steve teased, laughing at the mock growl he got for the comment, “But really love, I'm glad you have them. I know they're going to bring you home safe. I just….I feel better knowing you have good people watching over you.”

“I'm going to do everything I can to make it home safe,” Bucky promised, dragging Steve in close for a slow kiss despite the cat calls from the Commandos at the scene. “Come on doll, let's get these beers back to the horde.”

“You go ahead,” Steve murmured, eyes locked on a figure across the pub, “There's someone I need to talk to real quick.” He gave Bucky’s cheek an absent minded peck before pushing away to dart across the pub. He slid through the crowds of soldiers easily and was standing at the bar quicker than expected. “Clint,” Steve said lowly, staring at the slightly smiling alpha, “Good to see you.”

“Nice to see you as well, Mrs. Barnes,” Clint saluted him with his beer, “Having fun with the Commandos?”

“Tons. It's every omegas dream, being surrounded by a bunch of sweaty hair men,” Steve jerked his head towards the entrance, “Can we step outside for a second?”

Clint slid easily out of his seat, meandering towards the doors. “Bucky’s going to think we’re fighting out there.”

“No he's not. He knows I would have fought you right there if it was an issue. He probably thinks it's a science thing,” Steve admitted as the door closed behind them on the empty street. That was one benefit from the Blitz, Steve mused absently, having completely empty streets to talk about weird information. 

“Is this a science thing?” Clint asked, leaning against the wall with an easy grin, “Cause that's the only thing I can imagine would drag you away from Bucky tonight.”

“It's sort of a science thing,” Steve took a fortifying breath, “I found your weird box thing. From last time you were here.”

“My weird box thing...you mean my phone?” Clint looked stunned, “That’s where it was? In the past? Man, I blamed Nat for taking it and she's still mad at me!”

“Yeah, well, it's in Bucky’s room in my suitcase,” Steve snapped, “And that's what we're going to talk about.”

“Steve, I do not know how phones actually work…”

“I saw your pictures,” Steve spat out. Clint fell silent, expression growing cold and remote. “I saw your future, with Bucky being alive like a hundred years down the line.”

“You might have read it wrong…”

“No. I really didn't. I know exactly what I saw,” Steve whispered, arms unconsciously going around himself, “How did my husband get to 2014 and still look like the man I just left at the bar?”

“Steve…”

“Please,” he whispered, hating that he was begging but too scared to stop, “Please just tell me. I'm imagining a hundred scenarios a day and I'm going to give myself a heart attack if this keeps up.”

Clint turned away, expression remote. He wasn't going to answer, Steve realized as heavy disappointment dropped down on his shoulders. Clint wouldn't give in, wouldn't tell Steve what he needed to know and he should never have brought this up in the first place. God, he was so stupid…

“Bucky ended up frozen in ice,” Clint’s quiet voice drew Steve back into the present. His friend was still staring away, an almost desperate expression to keep the distance painted on his face, “He crashed a plane filled with atomic bombs into the Arctic to keep it from destroying the Eastern seaboard. Wait, you know what atomic bombs are? Right?”

“Seeing how I'm the only computer with high enough security clearance to examine them, yes I know what they are.” 

“Right. Yeah, forgot about that,” Clint let out a humorless chuckle, “Well, Cap crashed the plane and managed to get frozen. Fast forward about seventy years and he gets found, wakes up, and meets me. That’s how Bucky ended up in 2014.” 

“Why did he crash the plane,” Steve whimpered, voice so very small, “Couldn't he have landed it?”

Clint’s eyes squeezed shut. “Not according to him,” Clint rasped out, “Steve. Look. Something happened right before that...something really bad.”

“Bad?” Steve shook his head in denial, “What could possibly be so bad Bucky wouldn't even try to save himself…”

“You died Steve,” Clint’s voice was dry, a burned out husk. Haunted, pained eyes turned to stare into wide blue ones, “A month before Cap crashed the plane, Hydra pulled off a crazy plan and killed you. That's what pushed Bucky over the edge.”

“That's crazy,” Steve shook his head in denial, “I'm not...Bucky wouldn't do that. Not over me!”

“You’re his whole world! According to him, you hung the stars and moon,” Clint laughed mournfully, “He's been awake since 2012 and still, hasn't healed from losing you. His apartment...shit his apartment is essentially one giant memorial dedicated to your memory.”

“Oh god,” Steve pressed his hands to his mouth as horror filled him at the thought of his Bucky living a half life, “My poor husband…”

“Shit man, I don't know how he even does it,” Clint admitted softly. “He's saved the world more times that I can count…”

“He saved the world?” Steve demanded, clinging to that one statement with everything he had. 

“Yeah, him and Sam,” Clint admitted, “They kept Hydra from launching Insight which would have slaughtered everyone. And that was after the whole alien invasion thing...Steve. I don't like that look.”

“Bucky saved the world in the future,” Steve summarized, “Because he crashed in the ice. And in the pictures, he looked happy.”

“He was coping…”

“But moving on,” Steve whispered shakily, “He's going to be fine though.”

“Coping and fine are not the same things,” Coint protested, “Look, whatever you are thinking is wrong. He’s still a mess about losing you…”

Except that Bucky was fine without Steve. He was a hero, someone who saved the day and was needed. Captain America was still the much needed hero, not just Steve’s hero. “I need to think,” Steve whimpered, backing away from Clint.

“Steve…”

“Please, I just...I need to process this,” Steve ducked back into the bar. He slipped through the throngs of people, eyes burning. Blinking furiously he ducked around the other patrons, swinging under waving hands and ignoring their loud cries for more drinks as he picked his way back to the table. 

Although when he managed to push through and see Bucky, Steve was helpless to keep moving. Wide blue eyes stared at Bucky’s form, laughing and joking with the Commandos. He was so handsome, Steve had always known that but realizing it then felt like some great deity had reached down and clapped him about the head. Those bright eyes, easy laugh, and strength that filled every line of Bucky’s body. Human perfection, the officials always muttered, Erskine’s finest work.

Except Bucky had been perfect before Project: Rebirth. He’d been a hero back when they were young, dragging Steve out of fights and patching him up as best he could. He’d always done what was right, what was just, because that was just who James Buchanan Barnes was. Steve’s adoring mate.

Captain America. Hero the world needed.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut before sliding forward. He tucked himself back into the seat, snuggled into Bucky’s warmth and laughed at Falsworth’s jokes with the rest of them. If Steve’s eyes were a little too bright, if he clung a little too hard, none of the Commandos commented on it. After all, Steve would be returning to America soon so of course he clung tight to his mate. It was understandable.

“Are you alright,” Bucky asked, when they were safe inside his room, the pair tucked together on the thin bunk. 

“Yeah. Just,” Steve shrugged helplessly, “I finally realized the whole Captain America thing.”

“Wearing tights and punching Hitler?” 

“No you asshole. I’m trying to be serious here,” Steve smacked Bucky’s shoulder before settling back down, “You’re a hero to those boys Bucky.”

“Those boys are older than you.”

“Not the point here.”

“What is your point Steve,” Bucky tugged him closer, burying his nose behind Steve’s ear.

“My point is your the best man I know,” Steve murmured, “And the world is so lucky to have you in it. I don’t know what it would do without you Buck.”

“End terribly of course,” Bucky was teasing, Steve knew that. 

But that was the thing. He really wasn’t. Bucky saved the world in the future. He was the reason why there was a future, one where it was bright and he had friends and everything was going well. A future he had because he crashed a plane into ice, all because of Steve. 

“I love you so much,” Steve whispered, turning to press himself against his mate, “All I want if for you to have a good life where you’re happy.”

“As long as we’re together, I’m happy,” Bucky promised, rolling over to pin Steve under him for easy kisses. 

The next day Steve returned to America. The Commandos fought over who would carry his luggage, and he walked hand in hand with Bucky back to the ship. They settled him in his cabin, the signed papers making him an engineer safely stored away for the journey home. With one last parting kiss goodbye, Steve was left alone on the deck of the ship watching his mate walk back into the busy London streets and towards his bright future.

That evening, Steve tucked himself into his bunk and pulled out some paper. He didn’t sleep that night, too busy writing down the thoughts in his head for Bucky, knowing one day soon his mate would receive the letter and know how much Steve loved him. Each word, a promise for a brighter tomorrow, and sign that things would be better. No more world wars, no more pain, just tomorrow.

The letter was done when dawn broke the next morning. Careful, tidy and neat, it was ready to go. All Steve had to do was wait. 

He was halfway back to home when the wait finished. An early evening where he examined the structural integrity of Little Man, Steve was curled up on his bunk reading over the numbers when Clint appeared in the room. 

“Hey,” Steve murmured, making a note next to one of the joint fastenings that wouldn’t hold up.

“Hey yourself,” Clint settled onto the bunk as well, all nervous energy as he stared at Steve, “Interesting looking project there.”

“It’s something alright. It’s coming together nicely,” Steve finished the note and put the papers down. Clint was tense, like he had been those first awkward trips before they talked. All hard lines, nervous eyes flicking over Steve’s form before darting away before returning. 

A soft smile crept over Steve’s face, and he was leaning over to gently bump shoulders with Clint before he could think about it. “Hey,” his voice was soft under the sound of the engines running, “Thank you for telling me about Bucky.”

A tired sigh left Clint. “You’re welcome,” a warm arm wrapped itself around Steve’s shoulders, “I mean, I really shouldn’t have said anything. But you have killer puppy eyes and I don’t know how anyone could fend those off.”

“It’s scientifically impossible. Howard did a study and everything,” Steve admitted, “But really. Thank you for letting me know. It’s made things really clear for me.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Clint’s voice turned warry. 

“It’s nothing bad. Just...I didn’t realize how long everything had been so I wrote Bucky a letter,” Steve squirmed his way free to dig through his luggage to find it.

“What’s the note say?”

“Just normal mate stuff Clint. How much I love his stupid face, how proud he’s made me,” he cradled the letter gently as he slid back onto the bed, “How sorry I am to have left him.”

“Which isn’t going to happen,” Clint took the letter and tucked it away, “I’m not letting Hydra get to you.”

Steve looked away, helplessly gazing at the door frame. “You said Bucky saved the world. In the future.”

“Yeah.”

“And he got there because I died,” Steve snorted, “One life for the whole world. Not much of a comparison.”

“Roger. What the fuck are you talking about,” Clint snarled, reaching out and forcibly turning Steve to stare into furious eyes. 

Eyes that were staring to fade back into the right time stream. “I’m just a kid from Brooklyn. Not special in the grand scheme of things,” Steve reached out to cover one of Clint’s fading hands with his own, “Not like Captain America who you need.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it…”

“You need to let me go Clint,” Steve whispered, breath shuddering, “You need to let Hydra kill me. I’m not worth the future.”

Clint’s eyes were blazing as he started to fade away. “I am not going to do that.”

“You have to, its for the greater good,” Steve shut his eyes and leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Clint’s cheek. “Goodbye.”

And when his eyes opened, he was alone in the cabin. Which was a good thing, Steve realized, because he didn’t want anyone to see him cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My personal head cannon of Steve and the Howling Commandos is that he is a little shit with them. The number of racist comments they received probably in the first few months drove Steve insane. So instead of fighting back when people commented on Jim Morita or Gabe Jones, Steve would play dumb.
> 
> (“You’re right. We shouldn’t have those people serving with Captain America,” cue big blue eyes and thick Irish accent, “Those British bastards have oppressed our people for centuries. They should be on this team.” Laughing Commandos in the background with a done with life Bucky staring hopelessly out into the distance while the politicians/generals/reporters just splutter and are confused.) 
> 
> Also, I could not figure out a way to have this story without martyr Steve. Like, time travel and Bucky in the future cause of you dying. Obviously Steve is going to be all self sacrificing. But again, there will be an eventual happy ending and Bucky is going to lose it hearing about this.


	13. Clint and Steve: Goodnight my Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Times running out for Clint to save Steve. And it’s already hard enough with Steve ready and willing to be a martyr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I planned on writing out Steve’s letter. Then Infinity Wars happened and I already caused enough feels in this story so I just decided to not. When I eventually stop hurting, I might write out the letter. 
> 
> This chapter should start bringing everything together. It takes a while, but Clint’s finally figured everything out (I love time travel). Please enjoy before the final chapter.

Clint hit the ground hard when he returned to his own time which wasn’t a surprise because that was the normal action. What was different was getting immediately to his feet and storming out of the room, expression dark as he stalked through the tower. 

It felt good to clench his first around the letter in his hand. Soothing really to crumple the paper and ink that no doubt laid out whatever stupid ass plan Steve had come up with in his head. A plan Clint refused to follow, or allow to come to fruition. Steve Rogers may have been determined to get himself killed, but Clint was not going to let that happen. 

And in order for Clint to actually pull this off, he was going to have to go to the Raft and interrogate the Hydra agent who started the whole thing. Because something was not adding up, and Clint had been too focused on Steve to realize it. 

“Bucky,” Clint called out as he stalked into the common room, “I need you to head with me to the Raft.”

Bucky just looked up, a confused expression on his face but he was starting to get up and that was all Clint really cared about right now. Because the faster Bucky moved the sooner they would be able to fix this whole mess.

But they would be going faster if Sam didn’t decide to stop them with questions. “What’s on the Raft?” Sam asked and Clint grit his teeth to keep from saying something he would regret. “Besides the Hydra agents?”

“It’s the Hydra agent we need to see,” Clint admitted, crushing the letter a little more in his fingers.

“But why do you need Bucky? He already went there?”

“The situations changed.” Because Steve was a self sacrificing idiot. “And I need him to help me make sense of it.”

Sam’s mulish expression clearly said what he thought about the idea. His disapproval of getting Bucky involved with a high risk scenario that would still likely lead to his mate’s death but Clint just did not care anymore. Not when he was running out of time. 

And Bucky at least was on the same page as Clint. He didn’t even hesitate to get to his feet, even though Sam made a warning sound and that was usually enough to get Cap to stop what he was doing and think. “I’m going,” Bucky snarled, actually snarled and Clint had never heard him do that before, “If it’s going to save my Steve, then I’m going along with whatever stupid scheme this is.”

Sam looked unimpressed. “You could get seriously hurt if this doesn’t work out man.”

“I’m already seriously hurt,” Bucky spat before turning away, “The access code I got to the Raft hasn’t expired yet. Let’s go.”

And that was that. Bucky was now the one leading Clint out of the tower, the one commandeering the quinjet and starting them off. Clint had never seen Cap so focused, so determined. Not even when facing down a bunch of aliens that were trying to tear the world apart. 

This new man is the one who walked into WWII and led the Allies to victory. This is the drive, the focus, historians whisper about with awe. It was never Captain America that changed the tide of war. It had always been Bucky Barnes, trying to create a safer world for his mate back at home. 

Jesus. How terrifying would Cap actually become in this new battlefield of aliens and gods of Clint actually succeeded?

“Clint,” Cap’s rough voice pulled Clint from his musings, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Clint lied. Blinked. Then scowled darkly, “Actually no. Cause Steve’s a fucking dumbass and I’m going to kill him. Er…”

It had probably not been a good idea to tell Bucky that he was contemplating murdering his mate horribly. Like a really awful idea and Clint was going to suffer for it. 

Except Bucky didn’t look upstart, just resigned as he flew the plane. “What did Stevie do now?” Was the long suffering question. 

How to explain? To put into words the omega’s willingness to become a martyr. To throw himself to his death so his mate would come to the future? Yeah, no good way to tell that to Bucky.

But Clint had the next best thing to his own words to inform Bucky of Steve’s awful choices. So yeah, it was easier than Clint expected to thrust the crumpled letter in Bucky’s direction and slump over the jets console and glare out over the ocean. 

The crinkle of paper was the only sign that Bucky was opening the letter. It was painfully quiet for too long, the silence making Clint more and more nervous before Bucky finally made a noise. It was a soft whine, such an un-alpha sound that it made Clint wince in pain. The whine was filled with so much pain, so heartbroken that it made Clint hurt in sympathy. 

“God Stevie,” Bucky whimpered, voice wet and so hurt, “You fucking punk. I’m going to kill you.” 

Yeah. Clint totally understood the sentiment. Especially with the image of Steve’s sad little smile on his face as he handed the letter over was burned into Clint’s mind. And he refused to fail, to disappoint Bucky and watch his friend crumble without his mate. (And he definitely did not want to think about how he would break if Steve died.)

“What did he say,” Clint asked lowly as they got closer to the Raft.

“Same sort of bullshit you’d expect,” Bucky wiped his eyes roughly crumpling the letter in his hands, “That I should move on and find a new mate who's better for me than Steve was. Is. God. How could he ever think I would ever look at another omega?”

“Cause he’s an established idiot,” Clint growled out, “I tried to tell him you wouldn’t move on from him but he wouldn’t listen. Seriously. I talk and he just shuts his ears and creates his own reality.”

“He’s always been the most stubborn brat I ever met,” Bucky admitted with a wet laugh, “It took me years for him to agree to marry me. Stevie always said bonding was enough, but weddings were too expensive and not to waste money on it.”

“What changed his mind?” Because Steve had eventually married Bucky so it worked sometime. 

“Paying for college did,” Bucky shrugged at Clint’s surprised expression, “Turned out that if Steve was married his tuition cost less cause the assumption was he’d be starting a family and the money had to go to that. Cause of the Depression. So he decided to marry me.”

Of course they got married for economic convenience. It was just so disgustingly perfect for the two and matched the hot mess that was their entire relationship. “Tell me more about it,” Clint asked, “What was Steve like as a kid?”

And that was how the rest of the flight passed. With Bucky sharing stories of back alley fights where he’d pull his tiny omega off whoever had looked at Steve wrong that day. About holding Steve close and praying he would survive this cold/flu/pneumonia/whatever went around that winter. Helping your mate and love of your life wrap their mind around complex mathematics when their brain didn’t automatically connect to it. 

“You know,” Clint pointed out as they approached the Raft, “You should also have a college degree in mathematics seeing how you went through it all with Steve.”

“I’m glad I didn’t,” Bucky murmured as they landed, “Cause then all the credit for the degree would go to me and not Steve.” A sad smile crossed his face as he led Clint from the jet, “I was always happy to be the person behind Steve’s success. Just watching everyone catch a glimpse of how brilliant my mate is was enough.”

And what else could Clint do with that information but try to make it a reality again? There was nothing more important than that right now, so he squared his shoulders and stepped into the Raft.

It was always awful to come here. The grey walls and fluorescent lights made Clint’s skin crawl, but not nearly as badly as the glass cells with dead eyed prisoners did. Each second he spent in here was one second too long so Steve had better appreciate the sacrifice Clint was making here when he was safe and sound with his mate again. 

One of the site administrators was waiting for them, blank faced and imposing. “Captain Barnes. Agent Barton. We received a message from Agent Romanov that you wanted to speak with the Hydra prisoner,” they were led deeper into the building, “We moved the prisoner to a viewing room where you’ll be able to interrogate him.”

Clint clamped down on the urge to shiver at the tone on the word interrogate. Just the way it rolled off his tongue was creepy at the least and nightmare inducing at the best. He just had to get this over with, figure out a way to save Steve and get them the hell out of here. 

They were brought into the overbright room that looked in on the prisoner. The prisoner was hunched over in his cell, staring blankly at the ground and unable to see them. 

“Regulations state only one interrogator can enter the cell,” the administrator informed them. “Do you know who will go in?”

Clint stepped forward but paused before he could open the door. He turned to Bucky, who was totally focused on staring at the Hydra agent with a terrifying blank expression on his face.

“Barnes,” Clint murmured, voice too loud in the Raft, “If I let you in there, will you the information we need?”

Bucky didn’t move. Just continued to watch.

“Seriously. We need to know Hydra’s plan for Steve and we won’t get that if you snap his neck.”

Bucky snarled, lurching forward into motion. “Don’t worry,” he growled out throwing the door open, “I’ll snap his worthless neck after he tells me what I want.”

And then the door was slamming closed, locking Bucky in the cell with the prisoner. 

Now, Bucky was a large man. All solid muscle, he took up a lot of space. But what Clint always forgot was how fast the man actually was. It was terrifying, seeing a large man darting forward with inhuman speed and nothing to stop him. 

And that’s just what this was. Bucky was across the cell in seconds, dragging the prisoner off his cot and slamming him against the cell’s glass. It was hard enough to rattle the glass, hard enough that the administrator stepped back nervously. 

Bucky’s snarl cut through the air. “What’s the plan with Steve Rogers?” The Hydra prisoner didn’t respond, probably too busy gaping stupidly at Cap Clint mused. But Bucky wasn’t having it. He shook the prisoner roughly. “You will not like what happens to you if I have to ask again.”

“I...I don’t know a Steve Rogers!” The prisoner squeaked. 

Bucky’s grip shifted, darting lightning fast to close around the prisoner’s throat and pin him tighter to the glass. “Don’t you lie to me,” Bucky hissed and started to lift.

Holy shit. Cap was lifting the guy by his throat, leaving him scrambling against glass and air for traction. “Steve Rogers is the omega you were sent back to kill,” Bucky’s voice had gone soft, a deadly caress promising suffering and pain, “My omega, who you’ve been threatening and plotting to murder for months. So give me one reason why I shouldn't just twist your worthless head off?”

“He’s going to kill him,” the administrator whispered. “Captain America is going to kill the prisoner…”

The prisoner had reached the same conclusion and was flailing frantically, gasping and gagging as he tried to talk. But that didn’t have an effect on Bucky. He just watched impassively, with burning eyes, as the struggles grew weaker and weaker. 

Clint was preparing to run into the room and pull Bucky off when he suddenly let go. 

The prisoner hit the ground with a gasp, writhing and trembling even as Bucky continued to loom over him. “I didn’t quite catch that,” Bucky murmured, fists clenching.

“Na...not after Rogers,” the prisoner gasped out, “Never heard of Rogers before…”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “You’re after Project: Rebirth…”

“Insight! Fixing Insight!” The prisoner wailed, scrambling away from Bucky, “Need the programmer to fix it!”

“Which programmer?” The prisoner screamed when Bucky lunged forward, teeth bared and eyes wild, “WHICH PRISONER!”

“Vaughan!” The prisoner screeched back, curling into himself, “Dorothy Vaughan! We were supposed to get her to fix Zola’s algorithm!”

Bucky’s brows furrowed, confusion replacing homicide in his expression. “What does Dorothy have to do with Insight?”

“She refused to check the numbers, even though she’s the best,” The prisoner babbled, “If she checked it now we could fix it….supposed to make her fix it now…”

Fix it now? What did that matter, doing it right now if they were traveling back in time. That was the whole point, or so Clint had assumed. Go back in time, kill Cap’s mate, break the super soldier and win the war. 

But that was wrong. None of this had been about Captain America. It was about a computer sure, but Clint had the wrong one and it was bothering him. The riddle turned over and over in his mind as Bucky stormed from the cell, leaving the prisoner trembling but alive. He thought on it as they flew back to New York, mused as Sam lit into Bucky’s for attacking prisoners, and pondered for the next week.

Now. It all came back to now, not then. 

Back then, Steve Rogers is killed by Hydra. In a blast that no one was ever able to explain, or find evidence of. Like he had just disappeared from then. 

But Hydra was after Dorothy Vaughan and had failed. They never touched her. 

So what saved Dorothy, but got Steve killed? What was the difference from then and now?

“Oh,” Clint whispered one night, blinking in his apartment. “That’s what happened.” He’d figured it out, made the connection between then and now. So all he had to do was sit and wait, stewing on the problem and planning out all of the details so he was ready to go. 

It took another week before he showed up back in the past. 

As for Steve, he had an awful month. He tried to put on a brave face, smiling and going about his day as normal but inside he was slowly dying. It hurt, knowing he’d asked Bucky to move on for a better mate who could stay with him. Steve had actually woken up gagging at the thought of some other omega experiencing what it was like to wake up safe in Bucky’s arms. But it was what was best for his mate, so Steve would persevere. 

So he plastered on his smiles, and gladly threw himself into the math. He sent the checked math for Oppenheimer's project, and gladly checked over other projects. He threw himself into protesting segregation and had been arrested several times. There was a specific cell just for him at the police station, and all of the officers just assumed he would be there. The officials in Langley had given up on putting segregation signs back up after Steve broke them because it just cost too much money. Did it really solve anything? Not enough. 

Did it make Steve feel better as he slowly marched towards his inevitable death? Absolutely. Nothing like smashing signs saying whites only or colored only to feel better. 

“Steve, go take a walk,” Dorothy’s voice cut through his musing, bringing Steve back to the present. 

“What?”

“You have the face you always make when you’re planning on getting arrested,” Dorothy gestured at the door, “Take a walk. When you’re finished, you’ll be too exhausted to get in trouble.”

Steve scowled, but got up anyway. “I could still get arrested even if I was tired.” 

“You’re more likely to pass out, so we have good odds on you not being arrested.” She called out as Steve wanders out into the hallway. He grumbled to himself, muttering all sorts of plans of how to get arrested even as he left the musty room to soak in the fresh air and sunshine.

God. He hated the sunshine right now. He hated everything that was good and bright and living. Steve just wanted the world to look as awful as he felt.

“Steve.”

Of course. He couldn’t just catch a break. Sighing tiredly, Steve squeezed his eyes shut. “Go away Clint. I’m not changing my mind.”

A heavy hand wrapped around his arm, squeezing tight and swinging Steve around to turn and face Clint’s unsmiling face. His friend’s eyes were dark, dangerous as they stared down at the slight omega with a dangerous intensity. 

Steve whimpered a little when the fingers tightened. “Clint?”

“We need to go,” the alpha rumbled, voice deadly, “Right now.”

“What? No! I’m not going,” Steve tried to squirm out of the grip but it was too strong. He twisted, trying to break free even as Clint started to haul him through Langley roughly. “Clint! Let me go!”

“Can’t do that Steve, made a promise to someone,” Clint looked down, checking the time on his watch, “Ten more minutes to go. We can do this.”

“Do what? What are you talking about?” Steve snarled, heels scattering on loose gravel as they moved further through the compound. It was a brisk pace, too brisk for Steve’s weak lungs and he could feel them struggling already. The crunch of gravel and weeding breaths was the only thing between them. 

“I got the plan wrong. The one from Hydra. It wasn’t assassination, it was a plan to bring someone back to my time period,” Clint admitted his voice low enough the sounds of Langley covering it up for everyone except Steve. “The whole project was to move someone through time.”

Steve stopped struggling. He continued onward, pulled by Clint. “But you said Hydra kills me…”

“Oh they do,” Clint’s voice was rough with dark amusement, “Except Hydra’s not here. They never were after the first time.”

Steve meant to ask more questions, he really did. There just wasn’t an opportunity to before Clint was kicking the door open to the wind tunnel. The smash of metal against metal had the scientists and engineers jumping in surprise while the MPs whirled around, guns coming up and aiming at them.

“Clint?” Steve asked nervously, shrieking when a thick arm wrapped around his throat and dragged forward to become a human shield. A cacophony of voices rose in protests, demands for Steve to be released mixed with terrified cries for Steve’s safety. 

Steve wheezed, struggling against the grip even as Clint leaned down to murmur gently in his ear. “I figured it all out Steve. I was the Hydra agent all along.” Steve froze at the pronouncement, horrified at the thought that his friend would be the one to kill him, to take him away from Bucky. 

Then, the pressure against his throat lessened. Almost like Clint had realized he’d been squeezing too hard which was insane. Especially when Clint had puffed himself up, turning to yell at the slowly approaching MPs.

“We, the members of Hydra, send this message to the pathetic capitalist bastards of the United States!” Clint roared and...what was he actually saying. If Steve had been less terrified he would have turned and demanded to know what exactly Clint was doing. Especially when Clint kept sneaking glances at his watch while he grandstanded. “No one shall stand before our great military might, not even the mighty Captain America!”

“Sir! Release Mr. Barnes and no one will get hurt!” One MP’s voice carried over hit din. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Clint bellowed before looking back at his watch. And Steve had to be hallucinating when he heard Clint murmur “Thank god, time’s up” because that couldn’t be right. Why would Clint be stalling for time?

“Hydra shall usher in a new age! Hail Hydra!” Clint ducked his head down, and too the observers it must have looked like he was burying his nose in Steve’s scent gland, a major taboo towards a mated omega. But instead Clint just whispered, “I’m going to take you to Bucky. Just trust me.”

And Steve couldn’t respond to that. He wanted to but he couldn’t talk because it felt like something was reaching up between his ribs and squeezing his insides. A pained gasp left Steve as he felt something pull on his insides, dragging him down deep into the dark, throwing him around like a rag doll. 

Then it was over. Steve stumbled, Clint’s arm gone from his throat as he hit the ground. 

He couldn’t breathe. Oh god, he couldn’t breathe. Clint’s panicked voice was distant as the black spots darting around Steve’s vision spread and dragged him down into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be putting the next chapter up as soon as I can. The only issue is there are three weeks left in my schools year, and I teach seniors so I and dealing with panicked parents and students who want to know about graduation (cause they need to pass my class). But it will be finished soon, don’t worry there.


	14. Bucky: I’m Willing to Wait for It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been years, but Bucky refuses to give up hope. Not when there’s even the slightest chance that Clint can bring Steve back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was supposed to be a one shot and has short of exploded into a fourteen chapter story, which I’m planning on continuing in the series. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one. It does include the happy ending I promised.

Putting the last of the groceries away, Bucky sighed before getting up to work on cleaning the rest of the apartment. There was a thin coating of dust on everything because Bucky had been gone for a while, so he pulled out a rag and got to work. 

Dusting had always been Bucky’s job. It wasn’t good with Stevie’s asthma, which was why the omega had cooked instead of clean. Of course Bucky had offered to cook as well, but Steve wouldn’t hear of it. 

“Such a stubborn little punk,” Bucky murmured, lovingly wiping dust away from Steve’s picture frame. “Couldn’t let me take care of you.” Well, outside of heats at least. 

Bucky was just setting the picture back down when his front door opened. It had to be Sam, that was the only other person who had a key and Bucky had heard the lock click. Lock picks sounded different, so he didn’t have to worry there. 

“Hey,” Bucky smiled absentmindedly as he started cleaning their wedding picture, “What brings you over here?”

A few months ago it would be because of how down Bucky seemed. How Sam was worried he would do something stupid with all the memories of his mate surrounding him. Now though, it was more of a mystery. 

Which would be solved if Sam actually said something. “Sam? Everything alright?”

“Oh yeah,” the beta sounded furious, “Except for the part where you tried to murder some guy in custody.”

Bucky set the picture frame back down, terrified he would clench his first and break it. “You mean that Hydra agent?”

“Of course, unless there was someone else you threatened to kill,” Sam spat out, “Seriously man. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that that piece of filth had spent months trying to kill my mate,” Bucky snarled, lips curling back in naked aggression. He knew he had to look feral right now, but really couldn't bring himself to care. “That he’d been planning the best way to take Stevie away from me and I could make it stop right then and there.”

“By killing him?” Sam looked disgusted, “Man, we’re better than that. We’re the good guys, we don’t torture prisoners.”

Bucky snorted and turned away before he said something he would regret in the future. Torture and murder was a small price to save Steve. His hands were already stained with blood from the war. A little more from Hydra filth wouldn’t change anything. He was always willing to pay the price, willing to sacrifice anything for his mate. 

Even if he never saw Steve again, giving the love of his life one more day to live would be worth it. 

“Look, Bucky this isn’t like you,” Sam sounded exhausted, “This whole thing with Steve is messing with your head.”

“Don’t…”

“it’s true and you know it. Before all this, you weren’t happy, but you were coping,” Sam’s hand was supposed to be a comforting presence on Bucky’s shoulder, but today it just felt like a brand, “This is tearing you apart. Will there even be anything left when this whole thing is over?”

Bucky knew his laugh was mournful. “It doesn’t matter. None of it does without him here.”

“Man. We talked about this.” A hint of frustration was starting to creep into Sam’s voice. “You can’t put your life on pause for your dead mate.”

“And like I said last time we talked about this, I am not going to forget the love of my life!” He had to get out of here, had to get away from Sam and his probing questions and his demands…

Or he would have if everything had kept going like normal. Instead, Bucky stumbled to the ground as absolute agony ripped through his body. Distantly he was aware of the fact that he was screaming, writhing on the ground in agony. 

His bond. His bond had come screaming back to life in the most painful way possible. Every nerve was screaming, tearing itself apart and rebuilding in the worst possible way. Becoming a super soldier hadn’t hurt this much. Even Steve’s death hadn’t hurt so bad, but that had been more because he had been numb through the agony, the absolute pain of realizing his mate had died. 

Sam was screaming, calling for help. Bucky could barely hear it over the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. His bond. He could feel it lighting up inside him again. The butterfly feel of his mate alive once more, delicate and trembling in Bucky’s mind.

“Steve,” Bucky gasped out, flailing wildly to reach out and grab Sam’s hand, “Sam… my bond…”

“It hurts. Yeah I know man,” Sam murmured, “I know it can get bad.”

“My bond is back,” Bucky breathed out, “My Stevie...he’s alive.”

“What? Here?”

He was. Bucky could feel it, could feel Steve’s heartbeat starting to beat alongside his. “He’s here. Sam, Steve’s here somewhere,” Bucky lurched to his feet, “I need to get to my mate. I need to see him!”

Bucky wasn’t sure how they got moving, not really. All he knew was that one minute he was slumped across Sam’s lap and the next they were stumbling into Stark’s tower. There must have been a whole period of time that was just missing but it really didn’t matter. 

The second his feet hit the floor inside the tower, Bucky knew where he had to go. His legs strengthened at the realization, letting him take off at a dead sprint through the hallways until the went skidding into the medical bay. 

Some part of him was aware that Clint was seated in the room. That there were medical professionals fluttering around and machines taking readings. But none of that mattered. 

Not when his Stevie was lying in the bed. 

“Steve,” Bucky breathed, stumbling to his knees next to the bed. Shaking hands reached out to grab his mate’s frail hands, gently lifting them up to press and adoring kiss to the knuckles.

Steve looked like shit, he really did. He was too pale and had an oxygen mask pressed snugly over his face. His lips were tinted blue, dark circles hung under his eyes, and his face was too thin. But he was the most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen, wires included. 

Gently, Bucky reached up to brush stringy blonde bangs from a too pale face. “What happened to him?”

“I did,” Clint sounded exhausted. 

Part of Bucky wanted to turn, to snarl at the alpha encroaching on his weak, vulnerable little mate. But a larger part refused to turn away from Steve even for a second. “What did you do?”

“The Hydra guy made it all click. The entire time, we were trying to prevent him from getting to Steve but Steve was never the target,” Clint sounded exhausted.

“But Steve still died,” Bucky had to press another kiss to Steve’s knuckles at the thought. 

“Yeah, but Hydra was never there,” Clint admitted, “I was the only one who kept popping in from the future. So when the guy said that the whole point of this was to bring someone forward through time, I got it.” 

Bucky growled as Clint came to stand by his side. It was a fight to remind himself that Clint was a friend, to both him and Steve. That he had no romantic interest in Bucky’s mate. “What did you get?”

“I was the Hydra agent that killed Steve,” Clint shrugged helplessly at the venomous glare Bucky sent him, “Or that’s what everyone thought. I yelled Hail Hydra, grabbed Steve, and brought him to the future. And since time travel was undetected back then…”

“It looked like a suicide attack. Like you killed Steve,” Bucky breathed out the realization.

Clint shrugged, “Yeah. Well. Hard to check that he was alive when he was seventy years in the future.” Clint reached out to fondly pat Steve’s ankle before stepping back, “I’ll be back in a couple hours to check in on him.”

It took an extreme amount of effort for Bucky to grit out, “If you want to stay…”

“No,” Clint’s grin was bright and boyish, “I’ve watched your unfolding saga of sexual tension from the front row. I’ll let you two figure yourselves out before seeing the second act.” 

A second act. That sounded perfect, Bucky mused as he went back to watching his sleeping mate. A whole new world to navigate, another life with the love of his life, and it was going to be amazing.

It could have been seconds or hours for all that Bucky cared. He was the epitome of patience as he watched every muscle work as Steve slowly came back into awareness. Sky blue eyes slowly opened, hazy with the good drugs as they gazed around the room. 

Bucky knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he couldn't help it. His face hurt from smiling so much, from his face practically splitting in half as Steve smiled sleepily back up at him. 

“Bucky,” Steve breathed happily. 

“Hey there gorgeous,” Bucky cooed, gently pulling the oxygen mask off so he could finally kiss Steve. And oh god, his little mate tasted as good as he remembered. No. Even better than he remembered. “I’m so happy to see you awake lovely.”

“Hm. Missed you,” Steve curled sleepily up, tucking himself as close to the alpha as he could on the thing bed, “Missed you so much husband mine. Don’t leave again.”

“I’m never going to leave you. Ever again,” Bucky promised nuzzling into Steve’s neck. And oh, his little mate’s delicious scent was sweeter than any flower. “Always going to be here darling boy. Always going to take care of you.”

“No,” Steve pouted. 

It was the cutest thing ever, Bucky couldn’t possibly be blamed for smiling like a sap. “No?”

“I’m going to take care of you,” Steve announced grandly, reaching clumsily to pat Bucky’s cheek. “You're to reckless, so I got to look after you.”

“I’m reckless? Whose the one laid up in a hospital bed.”

“Not my fault,” Steve huffed out, but still allowed Bucky to gently draw him into strong arms. “Clint dragged me through time. Did you know that?”

“He just told me,” Bucky murmured. “Probably so I wouldn’t yell at him for putting you in danger.”

“Because you’re ridiculous, I get into danger all by myself.” And yeah, if there was any doubt that Steve was on the good drugs that just banished it. “Anyway. Clint brought me to now and then I had an asthma attack before the bond hurt and then I woke up here.” Steve smiled dopily up at him, “I’m glad though. I’m here with you, so it’s worth it.”

“Sure is Stevie,” and what else could Bucky do but kiss his darling mate’s smile. He was helpless to resist this specific temptation. 

Steve sighed into the kiss, settling more comfortably into Bucky’s arms. “I’m in the future,” Steve whispered, his voice tiny, “Everything’s so shiny and fast and I don’t know what to do.”

“You get better so I can take you home,” Bucky murmured. “And then we’ll figure this out together.” For the first time since that awful day in the Alps, he could feel himself at peace. The universe finally made sense with his life safe and sound in his arms. 

Later, Bucky would worry about how to bring Steve into this new century. They would figure out what to do with a mathematician who hated math but didn’t know anything else, a computer whose job was no longer necessary. Bucky would figure out how to get Steve used to cellphones and Netflix, while introducing him to modern history and society. 

But that was tomorrow’s problem. Today, all Bucky had to do was hold and kiss and love his mate. 

A happy rumble left Bucky as he curled around Steve. “Love you Stevie.”

“Love you too Buck,” a yawn left the omega, even as Steve tucked himself further into Bucky’s embrace, “You going to be here when I wake up?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky promised, “We’ve got all the time in the world now love.”

Steve’s smile was the only answer Bucky would ever need, and it was glorious to see it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! The end of A Hidden Figure.
> 
> For anyone left confused at the very end, there was no Hydra agent. Clint traveled back in time and took Steve into the future. Because no one in the past even knew this was an option, they thought Steve died. Bucky thought that as well because their bond broke when Steve was pulled through time, but reformed when they returned in the present. 
> 
> So Steve is now in the future with his Bucky, and they’re going to be happy together forever. There’s the whole plot in a nutshell.

**Author's Note:**

> Steve's story on becoming a mathametician is a real story. One of my close friend from my student teaching program explained that was why she got into teaching math. In middle school, a teacher said she wouldn't be able to handle advanced math because she was female. Out of spite, she studied math and is not teaching advanced Calculus. 
> 
> If there was anyone in Marvel who would end up getting a college degree out of pure spite, it would be Steve Rogers. He still loves art and likes to paint, but just couldn't let the math thing go.


End file.
